On Every Street
by Yolashillinia
Summary: A loose retelling of DAO as a noir crime thriller without the whole monster invasion thing. Cailan Theirin is murdered after a party, and Detective Elizabeth Cousland is on the case. Complete.
1. Chapter 1: My Parties

All right this is a ridiculous idea! Dragon Age Origins as a 40's noir murder mystery! Huzzah for NaNoWriMo! I watched the Maltese Falcon as reference for this. And if you're a classic rock fan, you've already recognized the title and chapter titles. Those were what gave me the inspiration for this in the first place!

.

On Every Street  
a Dragon Age novel

Chapter 1: My Parties

 _Well this is my back yard – 's my back gate_  
 _I hate to start my parties late_  
 _Here's the party cart, ain't that great?_  
 _That ain't the best part baby, just wait_  
 _That's a genuine weathervane, it moves with the breeze_  
 _Portable hammock honey, who needs trees_  
 _It's casual entertaining, we aim to please_  
 _At my parties, all right, uh-huh_

 _Check out the shingles – 's brand new_  
 _Excuse me while I mingle. Hi, how are you_  
 _Hey everybody, let me give you a toast_  
 _This one's for me, the host with the most_

 _It's getting a trifle colder, step inside my home_  
 _That's a brass toilet tissue holder with its own telephone_  
 _That's a musical doorbell. It don't ring, I ain't kiddin'_  
 _It plays America the Beautiful and Tie a Yellow Ribbon_

 _Boy, this punch is a trip. It's ok in my book_  
 _Here, take a sip – maybe a little heavy on the fruit_  
 _Ah, here comes the dip. You may kiss the cook_  
 _Let me show you honey. It's easy, look_  
 _You take a fork and spike 'em – say, did you try these?_  
 _So glad you like 'em, the secret's in the cheese_  
 _It's casual entertaining, we aim to please_  
 _At my parties, all right, uh-huh_  
 _Yeah, at my parties, all right, uh-huh_

 _Now don't talk to me about the polar bear_  
 _Don't talk to me about the ozone layer_  
 _Ain't much of anything these days, even the air_  
 _They're running out of rhinos, so what do I care?_  
 _Let's hear it for the dolphins, let's hear it for the trees_  
 _Ain't running out of nothing in my deep freeze_  
 _It's casual entertaining, we aim to please_  
 _At my parties, all right, uh-huh_  
 _You do what you please_  
 _At my parties, all right, uh-huh_

Elizabeth Cousland adjusted her earrings and stared at herself critically in the mirror. Pale blue eyes stared back, set off startlingly with dark smoky eyeshadow, her normally pale cheeks blushed up, her lips painted to a dramatic scarlet, and her narrow face framed by a wavy dark brown up-do that was a far cry from her normally severe style. The rest of her body was sheathed in glimmering red satin, exposing her shoulders, her nails were done, and she looked every inch a bright young socialite heading to a ball.  
Her roommate, Leliana Rossignol, leaned into the bathroom that was the most feminine spot in their… affordable apartment they shared. "I think your boss just pulled up." She herself was stunning in green velvet, white gloves up to her biceps, her fiery hair coquettishly curled up at the tips.  
"He's early," Elizabeth said, primping her hair a little more. "You haven't even left yet."  
Leliana gave her a bright smile. "I was just about to, that's how I saw him. Well, bon soir, ma cherie, and have a lovely time at the party."  
"You too," Elizabeth said. "I'll be listening for your voice."  
Leliana smiled again and left. Elizabeth took a deep breath, exited the washroom, returned to her own room where she had laid out her fur coat on her bed, ready for her. With her heels, and her coat, and her own gloves, she was ready.  
Duncan Arrynson, chief of the Denerim Grey Warden Police Force, met her at her door. "Thank you again for agreeing to this, Detective. I realize it's an inconvenience."  
"We must all make sacrifices in the pursuit of duty," she said, half-lightly, and let him hold the car door for her. "If only all such sacrifices were as easy and light as this one. Besides, it's a night out. It should be interesting."  
"Indeed." He got in to the driver's seat and pulled away from the curb, and they set off down the dimming misty streets of Denerim.

The mansion of Cailan Theirin, CEO of Theirin Inc., was immense. He was, after all, the richest man in the Ferelden, and fond of throwing his money around at a whim. But he had taste, and Elizabeth had to confess that the effect of this magnificent edifice was marvelous.  
Duncan parked in front of the main steps and they disembarked, and he offered her his arm as the valet drove their car away. "I hope you're not nervous."  
"No, don't worry, sir. My parents may not be as rich as Mr. Theirin, but the Cousland Foundation is well known among the upper circles of Ferelden."  
"Ah, that's right. So you may see familiar faces tonight."  
"Perhaps." She did not mention that she hadn't been at a Cousland party since she was eighteen and just beginning her studies at the Warden Academy, almost ten years ago.  
She hadn't quite been expecting Cailan Theirin himself to meet them at the top of the stairs, greeting all of his guests with a huge boyish smile and a hearty handshake. His beautiful wife, Anora, was a step behind him, greeting guests with an elegant smile of her own. "Ah, Duncan! You're early! Work not so bad tonight?"  
"Not so bad I can't accept an invitation from an old friend, Cailan," Duncan said, shaking Cailan's hand. "Perhaps you know – Elizabeth Cousland, senior detective and a personal friend."  
"Ah, Miss Cousland, younger daughter of the Couslands? We've never met, but I'm delighted to make your acquaintance now." He kissed her hand gallantly. "I've always wondered, why would a lady of your standing become a police officer?"  
"Detective," she corrected him. "I've always had a bit of an independent streak, Mr. Theirin. And I wish to do this as my part in Ferelden society."  
"Please, call me Cailan. Everyone else does! Well, I know who to call on if ever I need something solved, eh, Duncan?"  
"Thank you, sir," she said, charmed by his exuberant and slightly naive cheer.  
"Go on in, go on in, there's drinks and nibbles and live music. My wife and I will be around shortly if you need anything or want to chat; enjoy the party!"  
"You too," Duncan said, and with a bow to Mrs. Theirin they went inside.  
There were dozens of people inside, and most of the important ones she knew by sight, even if they didn't know her. Loghain Mac Tyr, Cailan's father-in-law and the COO of Theirin Inc., Eamon and Isolde Guerrin, Cailan's uncle and aunt and founders of Guerrin Inc., even Irving Bloom of Kinloch Corp. and Endrin Aeducan of Aeducan Industries. She wondered if she would see her parents, or at least her brother there, since it seemed everyone else who _was_ anyone else was present. Light chatter filled the air, but she could still hear the jazz band playing softly behind them, Leliana's voice crooning in Dalish along with them.  
"Why are we here, sir?" she murmured to Duncan. "I had thought this was a high-society gathering of Mr. Theirin's friends and you needed a date. This seems… There's tension in the air."  
"This _is_ a gathering of Cailan's closest friends… and acquaintances… and their friends and acquaintances," Duncan said. "Or so I would have reassured you, but you are correct. Perhaps it's the presence of Miss Valmont and her Orlesian entourage."  
Elizabeth let her eyes drift around the vast hall until they settled on a young woman with platinum blonde hair and a regal bearing, draped in blue silk embroidered in a complex pattern. "The others do seem to be giving her a lot of respectful space."  
"However, that's not for us to worry about. Champagne?" He took two glasses from the tray of a circulating waiter and offered her one.  
"Thank you, sir."  
He saw someone else he knew. "Ah, Rendon Howe. It's a fine crowd this evening, isn't it?"  
"It surely is," Rendon Howe said, turning to Duncan with a half-lidded smile. "Although I have to wonder what young Cailan was thinking, inviting the Orlesians. Surely he knows his father-in-law hates them."  
"Perhaps he is hoping an evening of polite levity will do away such thoughts," Duncan said mildly. "How is your older son? I heard he is studying at the Warden Academy."  
"He's taken to it with great enthusiasm. I had wished he would follow more closely in my footsteps, but Thomas has taken up that burden. Perhaps when Nathaniel graduates, he will be among your officers?"  
"I'd be happy to have him," Duncan said with a slight bow. "Is that Irving? I wonder what he's been up to?" He turned to Elizabeth. "Feel free to mingle, Detective. Unless you'd rather come listen to old men ramble about the past."  
Elizabeth smiled. "I'd like to go listen to Leliana for a while. I'll be back shortly."  
She wandered slowly through the crowd in the direction of the pleasant music, looking about her. So many wealthy names and famous faces here; 70% of the nation's wealth represented in this single room. And most of the ruling council, as well – the two overlapped quite a bit.  
There was a reason she'd moved out of her parents' home, determined to stand on her own two feet, rather than lie around as a pretty heiress waiting to get married. She could have. But that would not have served anyone except herself, and she knew what the world was like outside of these ivory halls, what life was like for the poor and homeless and helpless in society – the very antithesis of these elegant, bejeweled oligarchs that surrounded her now, so smug behind their politely smiling masks. The former were the people she wanted to help, to defend. The latter she would do her duty for, but no more.  
She made her way close to Leliana's stage and found herself next to a young woman about her own age, with jet black hair and disconcerting yellow eyes staring from the depths of vivid purple eyeshadow, wearing a maroon gown that was somewhat old-fashioned but still definitely striking. The woman was eyeing her critically. "And you are?"  
"Elizabeth Cousland," Elizabeth said, offering her hand to shake with a smile. "And you?"  
"Morrigan Black. Aren't you that female detective?"  
"I am indeed. Isn't your mother the president of the Korcari Company?"  
"Yes." Miss Black turned slightly away with a disdainful sniff. "I hope that's not evidence of your detecting abilities."  
Elizabeth chuckled, determined not to let her get under her skin. "I'm not exactly on duty right now." Besides, the tabloids kept an eye on Morrigan Black. She knew who she was.  
"No? Then your presence here with Chief Arrynson is…"  
"As a colleague," Elizabeth assured her, hoping to lay any scandalous thoughts to rest before they began. "But I am not here to detect anything."  
"He is fortunate to have at least one female officer on his roster, then," Miss Black retorted. "Still, if you are any good, it's a waste to have you here looking decorative. Ask him for a raise."  
Elizabeth laughed. "Thank you, but I don't mind. It's something different than the routine. And of course," she raised her glass, "there is excellent wine and entertainment."  
"True enough," Miss Black said, her expression lightening. "Of course, if it were me, I'd ask him for hazard pay anyway."  
"Hazard pay?"  
"Against the hazard that I become bored and start setting the curtains on fire. You smile, but I would, if given the opportunity. Look at all these dull boring people, crowded in here with no purpose. It's enough to drive one mad."  
"You don't seem to be setting curtains on fire yet," Elizabeth said, wondering if she felt the same as her on the topic of rich people.  
Miss Black sighed. "I'm representing my mother, so I must be on good behavior tonight. But I hate crowds."  
"I do too," Elizabeth said candidly. "But this place is so large, I am not so uncomfortable."  
"Good for you," Miss Black said. "But no place is large enough with Celene Valmont in it, I'm thinking."  
"Really?" Elizabeth asked, her curiosity perking. Duncan might have said it was not their business, but she hated to let a mystery go uninvestigated.  
Morrigan smirked and lowered her voice. "Rumour has it that Cailan is to sign a merger with Valmont Industries soon, and of course Loghain and Rendon are furious."  
"Neither of them are friendly with Orlesians, it's well known," Elizabeth said. Was that why Cailan had asked Leliana to sing? She was a Fereldan citizen, but she had been raised in Orlais and still spoke and sang with an accent.  
"True. Loghain is especially displeased, since Celene is younger than Anora – and more beautiful."  
"I see your meaning," Elizabeth said. "Though I think it is subjective… yet I know it has more bearing than I'd wish."  
"There, you're not so dull," Morrigan said to her. "In any case, despite it only being a rumour, she's certainly here tonight to lend credence to it. I wonder if someone will make a scene. I hope so."  
Cailan Theirin himself was approaching them. "Morrigan, Elizabeth, how are you doing? Can I get you anything?"  
"I'm fine, thank you," Elizabeth said, smiling.  
"I'm finding proceedings excessively dull," Miss Black said. "Couldn't you have found a livelier singer?"  
"You don't like Leliana Rossignol?" Cailan asked blankly. "But she's the best in Denerim right now."  
"And she's my roommate," Elizabeth put in.  
Miss Black smirked. "I do apologize. Still, Detective Cousland is the most interesting person I've found to talk to all evening, Cailan. Invite her more often, without her fusty chief of police."  
"Duncan is a most respectable-" Cailan began, laughing.  
Miss Black cut him off with a wave of her hand. "He's a calm, reliable, dependable chief of police… and a fright to look at and listen to. He's most excellent at what he does, only he also kills all joy while he's at it."  
"I think you overexaggerate, madam," Cailan protested cheerfully. "He's cautious, yes, but he's also very brave, and he has wonderful stories of his adventures with the Wardens! I'm proud to call him my friend."  
Elizabeth smiled widely at him. "As am I. And my partner on the force as well."  
Miss Black rolled her eyes.  
"But I shall certainly invite Miss- I mean, Detective Cousland in future," Cailan assured her. "If that's acceptable to you as well, of course."  
"Certainly," Elizabeth said. "You have a beautiful home, and I wouldn't mind meeting Miss Black in future." Not to mention Cailan and Anora themselves; they seemed so friendly.  
"Then it's settled. We're having a garden party next Thursday at three, will you be busy?"  
"If I don't have a case, I would be delighted."  
"I'll invite your brother, too, of course. I invited him tonight, but it turns out he's away in Lothering or some ungodly place like that, so he couldn't be here."  
"Fergus is always running about," Elizabeth said. "My parents hoped Oriana and Oren would steady him down, but no, he always has to check on the business affairs in person. But I hope he comes. It's been a while since I've seen him, actually."  
"Then it's a date! Ah, Anora's calling me. Yes, dearest! I must go. Enjoy the rest of your evening!"

She entered Drakon Police HQ the next morning and was greeted by a bright, eager face just showing the slightest scruff on his chin. "Well, well, how was your fancy do with Cailan?"  
"Interesting, awkward, and with plenty of excellent alcohol to help both adjectives," she answered. "How was your night with the dog?"  
"Relaxing," Alistair Theirin said, stretching. "Although I can't help the feeling that he understands more of the show I'm watching than I do. The way he perks up at plot points – it's uncanny."  
"He's a smart dog, all right," Elizabeth said, smiling at her partner. Alistair Theirin was Cailan Theirin's half-brother, and not a detective, but a rank-and-file police officer assigned to Elizabeth. Though she was technically his boss, they were more equals than not. "Any messages?"  
"Hey, I only just got in myself."  
But the instant she stepped into her office, her phone began to ring. She crossed to it without even removing her heavy wool overcoat and answered it. "Detective Cousland."  
It wasn't Dispatch like she had expected, but Duncan himself; his voice was a little unsteady. "Detective, you're wanted down at the Theirin mansion. Cailan… Cailan was found dead this morning. Suspected murder."


	2. Chapter 2: Planet of New Orleans

Chapter 2: Planet of New Orleans

 _Standin' on the corner_  
 _Of Toulouse and Dauphine_  
 _Waitin' on Marie-Ondine_  
 _I'm tryin' to place a tune_  
 _Under a Louisiana moonbeam_  
 _On the planet of New Orleans_

 _In a bar they call The Saturn_  
 _And in her eyes of green_  
 _And somethin' that she said in a dream_  
 _Inside of my suit I got my mojo root_  
 _And a true love figurine_  
 _For the planet of New Orleans_

 _New Orleans_  
 _With other life upon it_  
 _And everythin' that's shakin' in between_  
 _If you should ever land upon it_  
 _You better know what's on it_  
 _The planet of New Orleans_

 _Now I'm tryin' to find my way_  
 _Through the rain and the steam_  
 _I'm lookin' straight ahead through the screen_  
 _And then I heard her say_  
 _Somethin' in the limousine_  
 _'Bout takin' a ride across the planet of New Orleans_

 _If she was an ace_  
 _And I was just a jack_  
 _And the cards were never seen_  
 _We could have been the king and queen_  
 _But she took me on back to her courtyard_  
 _Where magnolia perfume screams_  
 _Behind the gates and the granite_  
 _Of the planet of New Orleans_

 _New Orleans_  
 _With other life upon it_  
 _And everythin' that's shakin' in between_  
 _If you should ever land upon it_  
 _You better know what's on it_  
 _The planet of New Orleans_  
 _With other life upon it_  
 _And everythin' that's shakin' in between_  
 _If you should ever land upon it_  
 _You better know what's on it_  
 _The planet of New Orleans_

The Theirin mansion was, for the most part, as spotless as she'd seen it the night before. Cailan had been murdered in his private bedroom – he and Anora had not shared a room – by a knife to the throat. He'd been left sprawled face-down, a pool of blood soaked into the lush cream carpet. Whatever else, his end had been quick. He probably hadn't even seen it coming.  
"No suspicious fingerprints, not even on the body," Alistair reported, tallying up the findings of the rest of the police crew. "No sign of the murder weapon."  
"Time of death?" Elizabeth asked.  
"Not long after midnight. The party was probably still going on."  
"It was. I hadn't even left yet. Who was it who found him?"  
"One of the maids, about ten minutes before we got the call."  
"Seems late."  
"Well, my brother liked to sleep in after a party, you know." He grimaced, the fact that the victim was _his brother_ ever more forcibly imprinted on his mind.  
Elizabeth looked around, though she didn't think there was anything she'd missed that she'd catch with a glance. "Has the guest list been pulled?" Not that it would necessarily contain the names of every single person who had been at the mansion the night previous, but it was a start.  
"Yes, ma'am." Alistair didn't say it, but his face did: with so many strangers present, and no real clues as to the murderer, pinning down a suspect would be extremely difficult. It could be anyone. Cailan was a well-liked person, but anyone could have a secret motive against him. And with the friendly, open way he had, anyone could have strolled into these private rooms. He might even have invited them in for all they knew.  
She lingered until it was certain they wouldn't get any more physical evidence from the scene, and then went downstairs to where Duncan had set up a room to question possible witnesses. Mac Tyr had authorized it; Mrs. Theirin was in no state to be giving directions, he said, and Elizabeth understood.  
They'd have to interview the staff, interview the guests… She herself was no witness, she had seen nothing out of the ordinary all night. She only hoped someone else had.

Days passed. They'd taken statements from all the servants and staff, tracked down everyone on the guest list and gotten their testimony, such as it was, and they were still no closer to finding a suspect. Mrs. Theirin had given a public statement about taking the reins of the company; she looked grieved, dressed all in black, but she was calm and composed, hiding her feelings under a layer of steel that Elizabeth admired. Although she only admired it if her feelings were genuine – Mrs. Theirin was no less a suspect of murdering her husband as anyone else. But she had a solid alibi for the entire party.  
Celene Valmont was also looked at with suspicion, but she wore her feelings more openly, less guarded, though she made no public announcements. If she was an actress, she was a very good one.  
Mac Tyr and Howe were also not unaccounted for, and they had spoken to the press about their grief and loss, but she was surprised to see them come in the afternoon after they had done so, in person to Duncan's office. She happened to be there, trying to help him track down a particularly stubborn witness on the phone to come in, when the door opened and they stepped in. She and Duncan both rose to greet them.  
Mac Tyr gestured for them to sit again. "We won't take much of your time, Chief, Detective. Rendon and I realize how busy you are trying to discover the truth of poor Cailan's murder."  
"Loghain and I, and on behalf of Mrs. Theirin, want to pledge our support in bringing the murderer to justice," Howe said solemnly.  
"If there's anything we can do to help, I want to know about it," Mac Tyr said.  
"Thank you, gentlemen," Duncan said. "That's very good of you. We will let you know if there is anything, but right now there is nothing yet."  
Perhaps there would not be anything, ever, the way things were going, Elizabeth thought.  
"We'd like to donate a reward when you catch the killer," Howe said. "Justice _must_ be done." He turned to Elizabeth. "Especially for you, as the lead investigator, and from me as your father's friend."  
"Thank you, sir, but that's not necessary," Elizabeth said. "I will do my duty to the best of my ability regardless. The Denerim Grey Warden Police will do no less."  
Both Howe and Mac Tyr nodded slowly. "I think we'll still donate something to the Academy on that event," Mac Tyr said. "It would only be right. Thank you for your time and your service."  
"Thank you for coming," Duncan said.

The leads they had? Only that Leliana, alone, seemed to have noticed a waiter who was just a bit too pretty to be genuine, and that Sten Hildreth, Cailan's qunari bodyguard, had gone off to drink himself into a stupor immediately. He had been entirely too miserable and incoherent for his testimony to be of any use whatsoever.  
And that was all. It was nothing.  
She walked home, forsaking even a taxi, even though it was twilight and raining. She needed to think. She had a car, but she really only used it to drive to visit her parents in Highever. Working these long hours with so little to go on gave her a headache. Alistair walked with her, uncharacteristically silent, still lost in his own thoughts and mourning. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, then offered her one. She took it, let him light it, inhaled deeply, and blew a long stream of smoke into the air with a sigh. The rain drizzled softly onto her hat and the shoulders of her overcoat. It was cold, and getting colder as the sun went down behind the thick clouds.  
Someone had to be lying. It was the only solution. Perhaps the principal suspects had not actually cut Cailan's throat personally, but they knew who had. How else could Cailan have been killed in his own bedroom without anyone noticing anything, when the house was filled with people? It wasn't as if a ghost had done it.  
The assassin themself was not really her concern. She would like to catch them, yes. Definitely. Someone who could kill, and kill so skilfully, was a menace to society. But that would not bring justice to Cailan's death. She needed the mastermind behind the assassin. It would not logically be one of the Orlesians behind it all – they had no reason to kill him, not when he was reportedly about to bring them a very beneficial business arrangement.  
Was it someone else? What was Cailan up to, that the only way someone could think of to stop him, was to stop him permanently? Mac Tyr and Howe might have issues with the deal with the Orlesians, but would they truly stoop to murder? Or was it his power, his wealth? Only Mrs. Theirin truly benefitted from that. But she'd already had access to his power and wealth.  
Her mind ached from going in circles, and she turned her head as they passed a dimly lit bar with the warm, nasal sound of a jazz horn drifting out of it.  
Alistair followed her gaze and took the cigarette from his mouth. "Tomorrow's a work day."  
"And Sten Hildreth is in there," she pointed out.  
"You won't get anything more out of him here and now. If he was too hammered to give testimony before, he's definitely wasted now."  
"It can't hurt," Elizabeth said, stamped out the remains of her cigarette, and turned her steps towards the Gnawed Noble, Alistair faithfully behind her.  
"Hey there, lady," said the bouncer, Geraldine 'Shale' Cadash. "You come to help us with our new resident drunkard?"  
"You mean besides Oghren Kondrat?" Elizabeth rejoined, but she did not feel up to much banter tonight. "I just want to speak to Hildreth, Shale. That's all."  
"You'd be better off speaking to the coat-rack," Shale grunted, but let them pass.  
The Gnawed Noble was sparsely populated at this time of night; Oghren Kondrat's red shock of hair was at one end of the bar, and at the other was the massive figure of the qunari.  
Elizabeth looked at Alistair. "Go distract Oghren, would you? This could be delicate."  
Alistair snorted in a way that showed exactly what he thought of that, but went. "Whatever you say." Oghren was a far-too-frequent visitor of the drunk tank, and always said exactly what was on his mind, which was occasionally amusing and often shocking. He himself was by nature a stubborn, obstructive person. The last thing she wanted was him coming to make crude comments about her quest for information.  
She slid into a seat beside the qunari. "I'll have an amber ale tonight," she said to Edwina.  
"Right away, ma'am."  
She looked at Hildreth. He was staring deep into a huge mug of black beer, and it was evident from his unfocused gaze that it hadn't been his first. "Mr. Hildreth?"  
"Go away," he mumbled in a deep, rumbly voice.  
"I want to help, Mr. Hildreth."  
"You want to gawk at the failure. The one who couldn't do his job."  
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked gently.  
"Do you not know about a qunari's honour?"  
"I know that once a qunari has taken an obligation, he or she will give their life to fulfil that obligation. But Mr. Hildreth…"  
Hildreth slammed a hand down on the bar, making a resounding bang. She didn't jump, but she stopped talking. "Theirin's dead, and I didn't even see his killer! I should be dead now! For failure, or for- for- I should have been killed instead of him! It was my job!"  
"What were you doing that evening?" In her own hazy memories, she vaguely recalled him, lurking in the background behind Cailan, at the edge of the gathering, always watching.  
Hildreth shot her a sour look of distrust. "Nothing, woman."  
"Please. I only wish to bring justice for Cailan's death."  
"Then kill me." He reached into his jacket, fumbling, and shoved a pistol in her direction. After a startled moment, she realized that it was presented to her grip first. "Do it. You're on the police force, you can do that."  
She did not touch it, although she wanted to take it from him – for his own good. "No. You're much too drunk if you think that. The police are not permitted to murder civilians. …And if you're going to commit suicide, kindly do it not on these premises."  
Hildreth snorted and put the gun away again, very slowly and carefully. "All right, you're not as weak as you appear. You wanted to know what Cailan did?"  
"I want to know what you did," Elizabeth said. She had a pretty good idea of what Cailan had been doing; he'd been observed up until a certain time, perhaps a quarter to midnight, and then he'd gone. There was at least a half-hour between his leaving the party and his death.  
Hildreth hiccuped. "Close to midnight… he went upstairs. Didn't say why. I don't need to know. To freshen up, maybe. Wasn't on the cool side that night."  
"No, I agree." Thank goodness the champagne had been nicely chilled.  
"Didn't ask for your opinion."  
"You went upstairs?"  
"Yes, he meandered around like he does, but eventually he made it to his room. I waited outside. And waited. And waited. Until I figured he'd gone to sleep. He did that sometimes. He'd yell at me if I came in and woke him up. I should not have let him overrule his own safety like that, not before, not last night."  
"I see," Elizabeth said. She wanted to say that he couldn't have known last night would be out of the ordinary. She wanted to say that if he hadn't agreed to Cailan's whim about sleep, he might have been fired and Cailan would just find a bodyguard who would do as he wished him to. But qunari didn't like being comforted with well-meaning half-truths. Especially not when someone was dead because of it.  
"I went home, leaving my night counterpart on duty. Heard the news when I woke up. Been here ever since."  
"I understand," Elizabeth said, and finished her drink. "Thank you for talking to me, Mr. Hildreth. You've been very helpful."  
Hildreth snorted and let his head hit the bar with a thump. "No, I haven't."  
"Yo! Eliza!" Oghren shouted from the other end of the bar, waving enthusiastically around Alistair's shielding flailing. "If you're looking for a good time, don't go with a morose old block of rock when you could be with The Oghren!"  
"Oghren!" Alistair exclaimed. "I told you, it's not like that-"  
"I know we're both equally drunk, but I doubt he's bigger where it counts, lassie!"  
"Oghren," Elizabeth said, lighting up a new cigarette and advancing on him, then changing what she was going to say at the last moment. "Thank you for not butting in when I was speaking to Mr. Hildreth."  
"Eh… you're welcome? Anytime, you just give old Oghren a call."  
Elizabeth was too used to it to roll her eyes anymore. "Have a good night, Oghren. I'm heading home, Alistair."  
"I'll see you the rest of the way, no worries."  
"Thanks."


	3. Chapter 3: Calling Elvis

Originally this would have been the first instance/use of On Every Street in the story, but then it turned out that Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 were stupidly short, so I combined them because the only reason I split them up in the first place was song lyrics. And I had thought I'd have more to say about it by now.

Dang, how is Mark Knopfler so good at music?

.

Chapter 3: Calling Elvis

 _Calling Elvis – is anybody home_  
 _Calling Elvis – I'm here all alone_  
 _Did he leave the building_  
 _Or can he come to the phone_  
 _Calling Elvis – I'm here all alone_

 _Well tell him I was calling just to wish him well_  
 _Let me leave my number – Heartbreak Hotel_  
 _Oh Love Me Tender, Baby Don't Be Cruel_  
 _Return to Sender, Treat Me Like a Fool_

 _Calling Elvis – is anybody home_  
 _Calling Elvis – I'm here all alone_  
 _Did he leave the building_  
 _Or can he come to the phone_  
 _Calling Elvis – I'm here all alone_

 _Why don't you go get him, I'm his biggest fan_  
 _You gotta tell him he's still the man_  
 _Long distance baby, so far from home_  
 _Don't you think maybe you could put him on_

 _Well tell him I was calling just to wish him well_  
 _Let me leave my number – Heartbreak Hotel_  
 _Oh Love Me Tender, Baby Don't Be Cruel_  
 _Return to Sender, Treat Me Like a Fool_

 _Calling Elvis – is anybody home_  
 _Calling Elvis – I'm here all alone_  
 _Did he leave the building_  
 _Or can he come to the phone_  
 _Calling Elvis – I'm here all alone_

Her search for the assassin was still at all of the dead ends. There was no way to put out wanted posters on "a pretty man – (blond, dark-skinned, possibly elfin)" whom only Leliana had seen, or at least only Leliana had noticed. And even with Sten Hildreth's more coherent testimony suggesting that Cailan's murderer might have entered through the window – and the police team had gone back and found evidence that this was the case – all they had now was "a pretty man who climbs well". They might not even be the same person. Assuming that they were would only narrow her vision, possibly make her miss the real culprit.  
She shared her woes with Feddic down in Photography over a coffee – large, hot, black – in the HQ cafe and received an understanding nod. "Aye, not much to do when your suspect leaves no witnesses and no fingerprints. I understand the traces on the outside of the house weren't much help?"  
"No. I thought we might be able to find his shoe size but no luck…"  
"Enhancement?" Feddic's son piped up.  
She smiled kindly at him. "Not today, Sandal. But thank you."  
"I'd like to see the person who could scale that wall without a rope," Feddic said contemplatively, then lowered his voice. "You know what the rumours have been saying, right?"  
"That it's one of the Crows?" She nodded. "I'm starting to believe them. Who else could pull this off? And with enough money… the Crows will take care of anyone for enough money." Not to mention if any of their witnesses had been bribed, they'd have to start from square one.  
The Crows were a mafia-like organization no one liked to talk about. Based in far-off Antiva, they had their agents throughout all of Thedas. They managed all kinds of dirty work, but normally their assassins kept to their own organization as 'cleaners'. Someone must have forked over a lot of money indeed to take on an outside target who had little or nothing to do with the Crows.  
That she knew of. But it wasn't her business to audit Theirin Inc., and if it was necessary to be done, someone else would do it. Especially since there was no proof that the assassin _was_ a Crow. Believing the rumour too much could bring their attention down on her in unwanted ways. If she wasn't already in danger simply for being the chief investigator on this case while the rumour existed regardless of her believing in it.  
That was her lot as a police detective, to be in danger. Her mother hated it, and her father wasn't happy about it either, but it was her choice, and she understood the risk of living this life.  
She finished her coffee and stood. "Better get back upstairs. Who knows what Alistair's gotten up to without me."  
"See you, Detective."

"…and then my uncle says, he says "you should marry Anora and become head of Theirin Inc., it's been in the family for generations," but I don't want to marry Anora, she's too cold for me, and besides, that would be the most awkward thing I could ever imagine, marrying my brother's widow, and also, I don't want to be a businessman, yuck! I'm a policeman. And yeah, there's been a Theirin running Theirin Inc. ever since its founding, obviously, but seriously Anora was the one running the company for the last few years and Cailan was the one just standing around looking pretty. Tradition and sentiment be damned. She'll be fine…"  
Alistair was rambling on about his problems when the door opened and Morrigan Black walked in, dressed in indigo and fuchsia festooned with black lace, still with that dramatic eyeshadow, with an elegant hat on her head and folded parasol in her hand with her purse. Parasols were so old-fashioned now. Elizabeth stood to greet her, and both women ignored Alistair's whistle of admiration. "Miss Black, what can I do for you?"  
"I think today it's what can I do for you," Miss Black said, smiling mysteriously, and handed her a scrap of paper. On it was written a phone number in pencil.  
Elizabeth looked up to see Miss Black was already halfway out of the room again. "Wait, Miss Black, I don't understand. Whose number is this? Why are you giving it to me?"  
"I choose not to answer at this time," Miss Black said coolly. "Figure it out on your own."  
"Hey, now, that's not very helpful," Alistair said, frowning.  
"On the contrary. I've been very helpful. But I'm not going to do your job for you."  
"Doing our jobs for us is one thing, but it's another thing to hand us something that may or may not be evidence- Miss Black?"  
The door closed behind her.  
"Want me to go after her?" Alistair said, irritation colouring his face and voice. "That was rude. She just swooped in and swooped out again."  
"No, she won't give us anything more. Forget about it."  
"But damn, she was a looker. What a doll."  
"Yes, she is… That's Miss Black for you," Elizabeth said absently. She turned the scrap over, but there was nothing else on it. "I'm going to take the paper to be analyzed; copy the number and see if you can find out who it belongs to before I need to phone it."  
Was it a set-up? Who could Miss Black possibly be setting her up for? Had she commissioned the murder and was selling out her assassin? If it was a Crow job, they wouldn't possibly stand for that; that would place Miss Black in ridiculous amounts of danger. That would be stupid, and Miss Black was far from stupid.  
So – if Miss Black was against her, how and why? Was Elizabeth close to some discovery that was best left alone? Would the phone number set in motion events ending swiftly in her death? She didn't feel close to any discoveries, but even if she did, she wouldn't stop, no matter the danger. Cowardice was a poor trait in a public servant of the law.  
If she was for her, why would she not answer any of her questions? She had something of her own to hide, that much was evident. But what could it be? Was it that Miss Black had met someone who knew something, and was choosing to distance herself for her own safety? Plausible deniability? Did this even have anything to do with the case? Of course it must; Miss Black wouldn't waste her time like that.

The paper was not terribly helpful as a clue; there were not many fingerprints left on it, and they were only of Elizabeth's and Miss Black's, anyway. The paper itself was a relatively expensive note-paper of a kind sold in little pads; it was possible it was from Miss Black's purse. She asked someone to check if the Theirin mansion had paper that matched anyway, although it was probably useless information. The pencil used was an ordinary pencil. The handwriting was _not_ Miss Black's, from which Elizabeth had to conclude that whoever had written it down had been wearing gloves. Which was not uncommon, certainly not with the weather as cool and misty as the fall had been, so that was not much help either. Miss Black herself had been wearing gloves when she handed it to Elizabeth.  
All these little frustrating facts which might or might not be clues, things that would only make sense once she had more pieces to the puzzle.  
Alistair had no promising news when he returned from his errand either; the phone number was unlisted. There was only one thing left to do to learn more.  
She had a smoke while staring at the number, trying to gather herself before steeling herself to dial the number. Alistair had one too, leaning against the desk in an effort to not pace.  
When it was burned down to the filter, she put it out, blew out one last smoky sigh, and picked up the phone.

Her pulse accelerated as the phone rang, as she waited with bated breath for someone to pick up. Alistair was standing hunched over the end of the desk, trying to be close enough to hear the other end while still being far enough to give her breathing room; he was still as stone, his eyes fixed on the handset.  
A click. Someone had picked up. "Hello?"  
An Antivan accent, male, dry. "Hello. This is Detective Elizabeth Cousland of the DPF and I'm afraid I have no idea who I'm calling."  
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and when the man spoke again, it was slow and cautious. She didn't blame him. It was an exceedingly unusual situation, enough to confuse and alarm anyone. "My name is Zev. What can I do for you, Detective?"  
That wasn't much help. She took a deep breath. "I'm looking for any information you can give me on the Theirin murder. I will be frank with you, Mr. Zev – my investigation is at such a dead end I'm reduced to cold-calling mysterious numbers given to me without explanation but with the implication that I would learn something if I called. So… can you help me? …Please?"  
Another long silence, with a muted sound that implied the person on the other end was pacing. "I… may be able to help you, yes. But first I have to know that I can trust you."  
She stiffened. This was no mere witness. She looked up at Alistair, saw his face was as grim as her own. But she had to go along with it. She needed anything he could give her. "What would you like, then? If you are in danger from reprisal for giving information-"  
A low chuckle echoed through the speaker. "No, that's not quite it. I have to know that I can trust you."  
"I'm afraid I don't understand, then."  
"Let's start simple, then. I will meet you at a certain time and place, and you will come alone, and I will come alone, and then we shall see where to go from there, yes?"  
Now it was her turn to hesitate. What he was suggesting was foolishness for her – she could very easily be walking straight into a trap, and her government-issued sidearm wouldn't necessarily be able to get her out of it. "You want me to trust you, to know if you can trust me."  
"That's it exactly." When she paused for further thought, he spoke up again. "If you choose not to, I won't hold it against you, but you will not be learning whatever it is that I know. I am not giving you a choice on this. No negotiation. And you need what I know, don't you?"  
"Please don't strongarm the police, Mr. Zev," she said politely.  
He gave another chuckle. "For you and your lovely voice, my dear Detective, I will forbear. Do you accept?"  
She sighed. "Yes. What is the time and place?"  
"First send away your partner who's listening in."  
"What!?" Alistair yelped, retreating out the door. "How did he know?" He closed it behind him reluctantly.  
"Lucky guess," the man said. "Now, don't write this down. Can't be having you followed for your evidence trail, can we? I'll meet you in the alley behind Goldanna's Laundromat, near Market Square, at 7:30 tomorrow night."  
"I know where that is," she said. It wasn't in a good part of town, that was for sure. "I'll be there. Alone."  
"I'm looking forward to it," he said, and then the line went dead.  
She hung up slowly, and saw Alistair's shadow illuminated in the fogged glass window. "You can come back in, now."  
"You're going to do it?" Alistair demanded.  
She nodded.  
"It could be a trap. In fact, it probably is a trap. It's definitely a trap. You really shouldn't be doing this alone."  
"I know. But I have to do it."  
"Oh come on. Send me instead. I'll go alone, like he wants. I'm as good at getting out of sticky situations as you are, and I'm more expendable."  
She made a face at the idea that Alistair was expendable. "No, you are not. And besides, he's expecting me. I have to honour the deal. He probably doesn't want more people to know about his involvement than necessary. I can't exactly call back and change it."  
Alistair sighed. "I guess you can't. I really don't like it, Elizabeth."  
"I know. And if it goes south, you can tell me "I told you so" all day long."  
He perked up. "Can I? Really? I never get to do that!"  
"Really," she said, and smiled. "But I have to believe it won't. Even if I'm planning as if it will."  
"Well… be safe as you can, all right? We need you around here."  
"Understood," she said.


	4. Chapter 4: Ticket to Heaven

Have to thank two friends for help with this chapter: Elwin for some legalese, and Yllamse for letting me know that Zev's "mi amor" is more casual for Spanish speakers than it seems. (I still don't know why Zev is Spanish when he's from fantasy-Italy, but hey, why not, they're both sexy.)

.

Chapter 4: Ticket to Heaven

 _I can see what you're looking to find_  
 _In the smile on my face_  
 _In my peace of mind_  
 _In my state of grace_  
 _I send what I can_  
 _To the man from the ministry_  
 _He's a part of Heaven's plan_  
 _And he talks to me_

 _Now I send what I can to the man_  
 _With the diamond ring_  
 _He's a part of heaven's plan_  
 _And he sure can sing_  
 _Now it's all I can afford_  
 _But the Lord has sent me eternity_  
 _It's to save the little children_  
 _In a poor country_

 _I got my ticket to Heaven_  
 _And everlasting life_  
 _I got a ride all the way to Paradise_  
 _I got my ticket to Heaven_  
 _And everlasting life_  
 _All the way to Paradise_

 _Now there's nothing left for luxuries_  
 _Nothing left to pay my heating bill_  
 _But the good Lord will provide_  
 _I know he will_  
 _So send what you can_  
 _To the man with the diamond ring_  
 _They're tuning in across the land_  
 _To hear him sing_

 _I got my ticket to Heaven_  
 _And everlasting life_  
 _I got a ride all the way to Paradise_  
 _I got my ticket to Heaven_  
 _And everlasting life_  
 _All the way to Paradise_

She arrived at the designated alley a little before the designated time, turning up the collar of her overcoat against the cold. It was overcast, and the only light came from a pair of dim porch lights, widely spaced apart. There appeared to be no one present, but she didn't quite believe it.  
"Mr. Zev?" she called in a low voice, and received no answer. Maybe there really was no one present.  
Sudden movement from almost in front of her; she moved in panicked reflex, snatching up a garbage can lid and swinging it in the direction of the movement, connecting with something; at the same time there was the sound of a gunshot, and a searing, lancing pain in her lower left arm. She flinched both from the sound and from the bullet wound, and when her vision cleared, she looked down to see a figure tumbled down on the ground, pistol pointed steadily at her, but not firing.  
He was wearing an overcoat like she was, with a scarf tucked around his neck; his fedora had fallen off, revealing in the dim light golden blond hair, dark skin marked with gang tattoos around his left eye, and elf ears. Her eyes widened.  
"Detective Cousland, I presume?" he said, and it was the dry Antivan voice she had spoken to on the phone.  
She realized she was standing over him brandishing the garbage can lid like a shield, and put it back on its can. It had been quicker than going for her own pistol in her pocket. And probably safer for her, now that the situation was clearer. She'd only been shot in the arm, and not the heart. "I apologize, but you startled me."  
"Ah. Then I apologize as well. I think I hit you."  
"You did." She raised her left arm, more to keep it elevated than to show him.  
"I'm very sorry. I hope it's not serious?" He returned his pistol to his own pocket and climbed to his feet, snagging his hat along the way. "May I say you're just as beautiful as I imagined?"  
"I'm here, alone," she said bluntly, not inclined towards pleasantries with a slowly cooling bullet in her arm and blood trickling down her skin. "Is there anything else I can do for you, or can we deal now?"  
He hesitated. "Not out in the open like this. You should know that."  
"Where, then?"  
"My place isn't safe."  
"My roommate is out tonight. We can talk there."  
"Very well. Lead on." He glanced behind him as if expecting to see someone following him at that very moment.  
She frowned. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather do this at the police station, Mr. Zev? You'll be quite safe there."  
He gave her a pained smile. "Zevran. Zevran Arainai. And no, I would not. I would not rather, and I would not be safer. Only in a certain sense."  
She sighed. "Fine. Follow me."  
She turned… and stopped. There was a big man at the end of the alley, but it was one whom she knew. "Alistair. Alistair Theirin, I told you not to follow me!"  
"I know, that's why I didn't tell you I was going to do it anyway!"  
"You could have put us all in danger," she snapped, trying to keep her voice down. "And you made me break my word. I made a promise, Alistair."  
Alistair's expression darkened. "He shot you! I heard it! You were in plenty of danger as it was. He's lucky I didn't shoot him before he put his gun away."  
She turned to Arainai with a very uncomfortable look. "I'm so sorry. I truly did believe I came here alone."  
To her surprise, he shrugged. "I expected it, to be honest, but I'm glad it was only him. It's not like he brought a squad of officers along." He gave Alistair a hard look. "Right?"  
"Um. No, I didn't." Alistair grimaced. "Though I should have."  
She walked up to him. "Alistair, please go home and try to rest. I have the situation under control-" which was a total lie, "- and I'll need you to support me tomorrow."  
Alistair was distracted and looking at her arm rather than her eyes. "He did shoot you! Forget this, go to a hospital-"  
"Alistair!" He shut up. "I'll live. It's not as important as hearing what Arainai has to say. Go home. I'll keep you informed as I can."  
He made the sad puppy face. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'll do as you say. But get yourself patched up, right? You don't want to lose that arm."  
"I'll get it taken care of," she promised. "Good night."  
"Good night, Elizabeth."  
He watched the two of them leave until they rounded the corner.

"I have to warn you, I might be watched by my side as well," Arainai said to her in a low voice. "I hope that doesn't interfere with your plans."  
"'Your side'?" Elizabeth asked. "Will they cause trouble?"  
"They might," he said. "I'm sorry for not saying so sooner. But I have nowhere else that's safe, even for a short time."  
"How long do you need?"  
He gave her a shadowy half-smile. "Why don't you hear what I have to say and then decide for yourself?"  
They walked in rapid silence until they reached her apartment door, where she made him go first. She still didn't trust him not to pull something on her. They scaled the narrow stairs to her sitting room, where Arainai immediately went to close the curtains before lighting one small lamp and removing his hat and overcoat, folding them over the back of the couch.  
She felt unusually awkward about this. She didn't normally have witnesses at her own apartment. And a male witness… An attractive male witness. He was a little older than her, maybe, well-worn laugh-lines in the corners of his eyes giving that away, his longish shining golden hair was straight and brushed back down to the collar of his stylish green suit, his eyes – now that she saw them in the light – a warm amber, enhanced by the black tattoos around them. He did have a bit of a bruise forming on the right side of his head; her handiwork, no doubt. And he had the self-assurance of a man who knew he was attractive, which only added to his attractiveness.  
So incredibly irrelevant. She shook her head free of such ridiculous thoughts and moved to the couch, removing her hat and overcoat on the way. "Can I get you a coffee? Cigarette?" She moved to the kitchen anyway, looking for something to bandage her throbbing arm with until she could go see a doctor.  
"No, thank you," he said politely. "I'm sure you're bursting with curiosity. I won't keep you in suspense any longer." A cocky smirk, followed swiftly by sober seriousness. "Can I help you with your arm?"  
"I just need to bandage it to keep the blood in until we're done here."  
"Allow me. I harmed you, I should help you." And he was right there, _sans_ suit jacket, warm nimble fingers taking the old dishtowel from her and wrapping it around her arm, then wrapping and tying that with twine to hold it. She wanted to flinch away; she had no wish to be so close to such a stranger, especially one playing his cards so close to his chest.  
He smelled like cigarette smoke and cypress and lavender. His breathing was calm and even.  
To distract herself from his distractingness, she raised her chin and frowned at him. "Well?"  
He took a deep breath, still hesitating until they had returned to the sitting area, to the couches there. "If you're looking for Theirin's killer, congratulations, you just found him."  
She almost jumped to her feet, sheer shock overwhelming her senses and mind. "What- how- why-" She panted a short, incredulous laugh. "Care to elaborate? And to explain why you're giving yourself up when there was no way in hell we were going to find you any time soon?"  
"Morrigan Black put you on my trail; you were going to find me anyway. Maybe. As for the other questions…" He leaned back in his seat, looking up towards the ceiling. "I suppose I should start at the beginning."  
"Please."  
"You see, I had an unhappy childhood." She raised an eyebrow, skeptical at his choice of beginning, and he raised a hand. "No – it is important, I promise. I had an unhappy childhood because I was an orphan… purchased and trained by the Crows. I am the best of their assassins."  
He said it so simply, without bragging, that she had to feel he wasn't lying. "So that explains how you were able to kill Theirin without detection – though I'm still curious as to how you did it in general."  
He made a brief smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Stole a waiter's uniform from the wash for access to the grounds, hid in the garden, got caught by Morrigan Black and only got away by giving her your evidence, waited until Theirin went to his room, climbed in and out. Simple, really."  
"I see…"  
"But I'm digressing. How I killed him is not really important. Where was I? Ah yes, the Crows. I am tired of the Crows. I wish to leave them. For… personal reasons. Life expectancy has been dwindling with them, as of late, and I want to start again. Without their control."  
"I haven't heard anything that suggests I'm not going to arrest you here and now," she said sternly, but made no move. He'd surely get to that part.  
He sat up and leaned towards her. "Yes, the key move in my gamble tonight. I was hired on contract to assassinate Theirin. You get me – what is it called, witness protection? A plea bargain? Even though I am guilty, I go free – to another country, perhaps, forever, if necessary. And _I_ give _you_ the ones who signed Theirin's death warrant."  
She stared, speechless. It was tempting. So tempting. She had said to herself that catching the assassin was secondary to the one or ones who had ordered the assassination in the first place. That justice was better served by locking _them_ up, rather than the man used to do it – almost as well lock up the knife Arainai had used. Well, then, those cards were on the table.  
"If you choose to arrest me instead – bird in the hand and all that – I won't be able to reveal who hired me," he added.  
That caught her attention. "' _Won't_ be able to reveal'?"  
He flashed a brilliant, disarming grin. "I never actually saw the contract. The information all came down through my handler."  
She glared at him. "Then how do you propose to discover who hired you? It seems to me I am only marginally better off than before."  
"Simple. I have run; now we see who follows. I'm the loose thread in their plan. We tug on it, and see what else unravels."  
"So it's 'we' now, hmm?" She was still frowning, and he was still smiling in cheerful self-assurance. What an arrogant, presumptive…  
She needed to serve justice. She sighed. "Very well. I'll get you informant status. I can't promise a full pardon but I'll do my best." She fixed him with a stern look. "In exchange, you and I are going to work to the bone to uncover the truth behind this."  
"Excellent. I agree." He leaned forward and offered his hand to shake. She took it reluctantly, distrusting his touch more than ever now that she knew he was an assassin.  
"I suppose you're wanting to stay the night, since you'll undoubtedly be watched if you stay," she said.  
"I hope it's not too much of an imposition. You said your roommate is away? Then she'll be in no danger. And may I say what a lovely place you have."  
She snorted. It was a pretty rubbish apartment, really. "Flatterer. How did you know my roommate was female?"  
"Simple observation, mi amor." He gestured to the doors of both bedrooms, which were partly ajar. "Either you are using both bedrooms, in which case – the poor man who has to share with you – or, a lady lives in each room. Or perhaps a man who enjoys dressing as a lady-"  
"All right, shut up," she said, but not harshly, and began putting on her overcoat again. Her arm pained her and he had to help her get her left sleeve on. "I'm going to go see Doctor Wynne. She has discretion and won't ask questions. Stay put while I'm gone."  
"I wouldn't dream of moving," he said cheerfully. "Watch your back."


	5. Chapter 5: The Bug

Playing a little fast and loose with the Laws of Removing Bullets (check TVTropes (sorry for TVTropes)).

.

Chapter 5: The Bug

 _Well it's a strange old game – you learn it slow_  
 _One step forward and it's back to go_  
 _You're standing on the throttle_  
 _You're standing on the breaks_  
 _In the groove 'til you make a mistake_

 _Sometime you're the windshield_  
 _Sometime you're the bug_  
 _Sometime it all come together baby_  
 _Sometime you're a fool in love_  
 _Sometime you're the Louisville slugger_  
 _Sometime you're the ball_  
 _Sometime it all come together baby_  
 _Sometime you're gonna lose it all_  
 _Groovy_

 _You gotta know happy – you gotta know glad_  
 _Because you're gonna know lonely_  
 _And you're gonn' know bad_  
 _When you're rippin' and a ridin'_  
 _And you're coming on strong_  
 _You start slippin' and slidin'_  
 _And it all go wrong because_

 _Sometime you're the windshield_  
 _Sometime you're the bug_  
 _Sometime it all come together baby_  
 _Sometime you're a fool in love_  
 _Sometime you're the Louisville slugger_  
 _Sometime you're the ball_  
 _Sometime it all come together baby_  
 _Sometime you're gonna lose it all_  
 _Groovy_

 _One day you got the glory_  
 _And then you got none_  
 _One day you're a diamond_  
 _And then you're a stone_  
 _Everything can change in the blink of an eye_  
 _So let the good time roll before we say goodbye_

 _Sometime you're the windshield_  
 _Sometime you're the bug (yeah)_  
 _Sometime it all come together baby_  
 _Sometime you're a fool in love_  
 _Sometime you're the Louisville slugger_  
 _Sometime you're the ball_  
 _Sometime it all come together baby_  
 _Sometime you're gonna lose it all_  
 _I said_  
 _Sometime you're the windshield_  
 _Sometime you're the bug_  
 _Sometime it all come together baby_  
 _Sometime you're a fool in love_  
 _Sometime you're the Louisville slugger_  
 _Sometime you're the ball_  
 _Sometime it all come together baby_  
 _Sometime you're gonna lose it all_  
 _Groovy_

It was too good to be true, that Cailan Theirin's killer would simply offer himself up like that. Now that she was away from him, undistracted, able to think, it seemed ridiculous. He had to be lying. Or using her. There was some bigger picture that she couldn't see yet, and it was unsettling her.  
The problem was, it didn't matter. She would go along with whatever he said, because she needed to catch his employers. So even if everything he said was a complete lie, she would have to believe him until it was proven otherwise.  
She'd just have to sleep with her gun under her pillow.  
She turned up a new street and stepped up onto a porch, rapping on the glass door. It took a few minutes, but eventually she heard brisk footsteps, and a lively white-haired old woman opened the door. "Why, Elizabeth! I mean, Detective Cousland. Do come in – oh!"  
"Yes, hush," Elizabeth said in a low voice. "It's due to business, but it's highly confidential."  
Doctor Wynne Joyce smiled and laid a finger beside her nose. "I understand, dear. Come sit yourself down in the kitchen and I'll get my kit."  
Elizabeth did as Wynne said, and had a smoke while Wynne unbound the dishtowel around her arm and had a look at it. She gritted her teeth as every little prod caused darts of pain to lance through her arm up to her shoulder. "Can you get it out?"  
"Did it take any of your coat or shirt into your arm, dear?" Wynne was already examining her clothes. "The coat looks fine. The shirt, however… hold on a moment." She got out a little bottle, then went to a drawer and brought out a wooden mixing spoon. "Have a whiff of this, and then you'd better bite down on this."  
Elizabeth did as she was told, and immediately felt drowsy and light-headed. "Anaesthetic, doc?"  
"Yes, dear. Bite down and hold still."  
Even with the anaesthetic, it hurt. Elizabeth shut her eyes and clamped down on the spoon. She wasn't sure how much time had passed until Wynne stopped making it hurt worse, but it was a long time.  
Wynne held up a tiny scrap of bloody cloth triumphantly. "There you are, dear. Now I need to clean it and stitch it up again."  
"You got the bullet out, too, right?" Elizabeth asked woozily. "Startin' to think you might as well have left it in."  
"They always say that. Yes, it's right here. I know, the alcohol stings, but we don't want any nastiness getting in your arm, do we? Now, can you tell me why you're here at nine in the evening with a confidential bullet?"  
"That's not fair," Elizabeth protested. "I'm on drugs right now." She looked around. "The gist of it is… I may have found the most important witness of my career. He startled me, and I startled him, and he's got a bruise on his head, but he gave me this. And now we have to go find his evidence, and I feel like this is all very likely to be a wild goose chase, but I don't have any choice but to help him." She frowned in concern at Wynne. "And you won't tell anyone, right?"  
"My dear! I am a doctor. You'll have to subpoena me to get me to repeat what my patients tell me. The things I could tell you, otherwise." Wynne winked. "Well, tell me about him. You trust him, but you don't trust him, obviously. Why?"  
"Because he's the only lead I've got, and if he's telling the truth, it's too good to pass up… But it's too good to be true. And he's too pretty to be trustworthy."  
Wynne chuckled as she threaded her needle. "Too pretty? I never thought I'd see the day. Elizabeth Cousland, admitting a man was attractive."  
"No! That's not it!" Elizabeth cried, an uninhibited blush rising to her cheeks. "I don't care that he's attractive- I mean-!"  
"I'm just teasing, dear. But you know how big the office pool is on you and Alistair secretly dating."  
Elizabeth shook her head. "I know. I also know about the one betting that I'm a lesbian. Foolishness, all of it."  
"So – is he attractive?"  
Elizabeth sighed and gave up. "You just want all the girly gossip, doc."  
"Of course I do. You know I won't stop until you tell me."  
"He looks well enough. Long hair, piercing 'bedroom' eyes, ego big enough to drown an elephant… Very self-assured and smirky – and a giant womanizer. He was flirting with me since we talked on the phone."  
"I didn't think that was your type, dear."  
"He's not. It's purely an aesthetic thing. He's also a hardened killer. Ruins the mood pretty fast."  
"Maybe, maybe, you have a point there. Well, I'll be curious to know what happens next. Where did you leave him?"  
Elizabeth hesitated to answer. "My apartment. -He can't go back to his place, supposedly he's being watched."  
"True enough," Wynne said, but Elizabeth sensed it wasn't 100% serious.  
"I should get back to him, then," Elizabeth said, and heaved herself to her feet. It seemed like she could walk in a reasonably straight line. Shooting anything was out of the question, though. If she was attacked on the way home she would have a bad time of it. At least her arm hurt slightly less. "Thanks, doc. I'll come back for my bill."  
"Right, confidential." Wynne nodded and smiled. "Be careful, my dear. I want to see you again."  
Elizabeth nodded. "I'll do my best."

She made it home without incident. The light was still on, and Arainai was stretched out on the couch, still fully dressed except for his coat and shoes. His eyes were half-closed but alert; they followed her across the room. "Arm's fine. Comfortable?"  
"Yes, thank you."  
"Then I'll see you in the morning."  
She slept with her gun under her pillow and just as dressed as Arainai, although she changed her shirt.

She was woken by a crash from the door downstairs and sprang to her feet, her heart pounding. She hardly felt the renewed pain in her arm over the fear and adrenaline flooding her. She shoved her feet into her shoes and flung open the door; Arainai was crouching by the top of the stairs, his gun in his hand. He turned his head and saw her. "Is there another way out of here?"  
"Fire escape in the kitchen," she said. "Wouldn't they have thought of that?"  
"Yes, but we're not going out _this_ way. Come!" He brushed past her, heading for the fire escape.  
Her hands were shaking. To be attacked, so blatantly and with such brute force, had never happened to her before – it had not quite occurred to her that it would happen as a result of agreeing to help Arainai. And to have her own home under assault just made it infinitely more shocking. Thank goodness Leliana was in Jader.  
"I should call HQ," she said, reaching for the phone.  
He grabbed her hand, dragging her after him. "No time. By the time your police friends get here, we'd be dead."  
The thought crossed her mind that this could be part of a ruse to get her to trust him, but she dismissed it. If it was, she had no time or focus to analyze it. She had to follow his lead for now.  
He cracked open the door and glanced out carefully. "They're not quite in position yet. Come!" He was off and away, swinging over handrails to get down more quickly. She took a deep breath and followed him, doing her best to keep up with his acrobatics even with her lack of practice and injured arm.  
"Do you have a car?" he called over his shoulder.  
"The silver one," she called back, focussing on not tripping on the metal grating. Gunshots were starting to echo from the alley below them, ricocheting from gratings and impacting on brick walls, and her heart was pulsing too fast to keep track of.  
"The ugly one? Got it."  
"Hey!"  
He laughed as he leaped from the bottom of the fire escape to the ground, a good 15 feet; he rolled and sprang to his feet. She… she couldn't do that. But to slow down or freeze would be death from bullets, so she grimly launched herself into the air after him.  
He'd turned, as if sensing her fear and lack of agility, reaching out to catch her. And he did, and in such a way that instead of her barreling into him and knocking them both to the hard pavement, he spun her around, absorbing her kinetic energy, setting her down gently on her feet.  
She'd never been so out of breath in her life. "Thank you."  
"You're welcome. I hope you have your keys?"  
She pulled them from her pocket with trembling fingers, shoving the right one into the car's lock, throwing herself into the driver's seat and reaching over to release the passenger's side. "Get in get in get in-" He was sliding into the passenger's seat, throwing her a confident grin, though her answering stare was wide and frazzled. Not even bothering with the safety belt, she put the car in gear and stomped the gas to the floorboards. Her arm screamed as she clamped her hands on the steering wheel in a death-grip, but she wasn't letting go.  
"Zevran!" shouted one of the figures hurrying towards the car, a dark-haired man. They weren't shooting right now. Why not? She didn't care, it would give them a moment or two longer to get away.  
Arainai's face had gone hard. "Taliesin…"  
"Not stopping!" Elizabeth barked, pulled a hard left onto the street, and accelerated far beyond the legal limit.  
"That's fine- whoa! Who taught you how to drive?"  
"Shut up! I'm completely hopped up on adrenaline, you want to drive!?"  
He chuckled. "No ma'am. So Tal is still loyal, is he… of course he is. I should have guessed he'd be the one sent to get me."  
She wanted to know more about this Taliesin, if he was important – it sounded like he was another Crow – but quick movement in her rear view mirror caught her eye. "I think they're still on us."  
"Of course they are. You didn't think the Crows gave up so quickly, did you? Can I borrow your gun?"  
"It doesn't have much ammo," Elizabeth said, but managed to get it out of her pocket and pass it over. She heard gunshots from behind and ducked reflexively, her steering wobbling slightly.  
"It'll have enough to deter them. And I have some extra for mine. In the meantime, try and shake them."  
"I'll try." In her mind, she imagined a map of the city, imagined how their pursuit would be spread out to catch them, how she could evade them, get around them,  
And then he rolled down his window, slid the upper half of his body through it facing backwards, and started shooting at their pursuers, even as their gunfire increased. "Haha! This is great. I should do this more often."  
"You shoot an innocent person and I'm arresting you," she barked at him, angry both at his recklessness and the thought that he could miss or misjudge his target.  
"I'm better than that. Trust me, mi amor." As if she had a choice.  
"I'm going to turn, you better hold on." She danced between clutch and brake and gas, yanking the shift stick where she needed it to be, and pulled a hard right onto an even larger street – with more traffic. Not good. More traffic meant more possibility for more collateral damage. Cars were honking at them, swerving to get out of their way as she darted around them, weaving like a race-car driver.  
"We need a siren! Aren't you a police officer?"  
"Personal car! Don't get sirens for personal cars! Don't worry, someone from work will start chasing soon and then we'll have all the sirens you want. Turning!" She pulled another right onto a smaller street, followed by a left. He clutched onto the headrest of his seat, bracing himself against the centrifugal forces.  
She managed to shoot him a glance. "They must miss you badly if they're going to this much trouble to take you out. The Crows are usually very discrete." As in, she only rarely handled cases involving them.  
"Hm, yes, well, I don't think this is entirely a Crow operation, just they've borrowed Taliesin for the job. But yes, this is most unusual – they're very fond of me. Even more than I had thought. Ha! Got another one."  
She glanced in her mirror to see one pursuing car drive headlong into a telephone pole with an awful crunch. "That wasn't your friend, was it?" No, if it was, he would have said something.  
"No, no, Tal is too good to show his face so openly. He'll let these others wear us out, then move in."  
 _For the kill_ , her mind supplied the end of the phrase. "How exactly are we going to get away?"  
"You mean to say that in all your time on the force, you've never daydreamed about how exactly you'd escape your own people?"  
"Arainai!" Also, they weren't being chased by the police. Yet.  
"Well, first we have to find a quiet spot to slow down and blend in with traffic. Then, the car has more than a couple bullet holes in her, so we'll have to change it or else blending in won't work at all. After that, we need to leave town, at least temporarily."  
"Got it. Sit down like a normal person, we should be clear of them in a minute or two. Then I'll slow down. Assuming Keenan doesn't pull us over first for speeding."  
"You wouldn't actually let him, would you?"  
"I'm going to have a hell of a fine when this is over, whether he catches me or not," she said ruefully. "I can write myself a ticket, you know."  
His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Why would you? And if you did, why would you pay it? Are you not acting in service to the law right now?"  
She hesitated. "Maybe." She slowed down to just over the speed limit. "And you said we had to change the car? You're not advocating stealing one, are you?"  
His smirk grew wider. "Maybe."


	6. Chapter 6: When It Comes To You

Chapter 6: When It Comes to You

 _If we can't get along, we oughta be apart_  
 _And I'm wondering where'd you get that cold, cold heart_  
 _Set me free, sign my release_  
 _I'm tired of being the villain of the piece_

 _You been giving me a bad time_  
 _Tell me what'd I do_  
 _How come I always get a hard time_  
 _Honey when it comes to you_  
 _Sayin' things that you didn't have to_  
 _How come I always get a hard time_  
 _Honey when it comes to you_

 _You only get one life, this I know_  
 _I wanna get my licks in now before I go_  
 _The fire of love is dead and cold_  
 _I gotta satisfy the hunger in my soul_

 _You been giving me a bad time_  
 _Tell me what'd I do_  
 _How come I always get a hard time_  
 _Honey when I come to you_  
 _Sayin' things that you didn't have to_  
 _How come I always get a hard time_  
 _Honey when it comes to you_

 _If we can't get along, we oughta be apart_  
 _And I'm wondering where'd you get that cold, cold heart_  
 _Set me free, sign my release_  
 _I'm tired of being the villain of the piece_

 _You been giving me a bad time_  
 _Tell me what'd I do_  
 _How come I always get a hard time_  
 _Honey when I come to you_  
 _Sayin' things that you didn't have to_  
 _How come I always get a hard time_  
 _Honey when it comes to you_  
 _How come I always get a hard time_  
 _Honey when it comes to you_  
 _How come I always get a hard time_  
 _Honey when I come to you_

She pulled up the little green car on the side of the Highever street and blew out a sigh, resting her head on the steering wheel, pushing her hat up slightly. "This is ridiculous."  
"And yet, here you are," Arainai said lightly. "Come on, my dear detective, we're not getting any more vulnerable sitting here."  
"Fine, fine." She opened the car door and stepped out, tugging her hat back down firmly.  
They'd managed to 'acquire' alternate transport on a back street in a bad part of Denerim, ditching the battered silver car, and made it unpursued to the highway. There was only one place she could think of where they wouldn't be found immediately, so she drove through the night to get to Highever.  
And now they were here and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and head straight back to Denerim, assassins be damned. She knocked on the door instead.  
After a few moment, she heard shuffling noises from inside. "Be right there," a male voice called, and her shoulders tensed. Arainai glanced at her but said nothing.  
The door opened and she was face to face with Rory Gilmore in his bathrobe, a mug of coffee in his hand. His eyes opened in surprise, then frowned in as he took in the fact that she was not alone. "Come to gloat about your new boyfriend, have you?"  
"It's not like that, Rory. It's strictly business."  
"What, business with a gigolo? Get out."  
"Wait! Please!" She jammed a foot in the door before he could close it. "Rory, I- I need your help. We're in danger. He's a witness in a case."  
"In a manner of speaking," Arainai muttered with amusement.  
Rory eyed Arainai with extreme distaste. "Uh-huh. What kind of danger?"  
The more dramatic, the more convincing. "The Crows. It's to do with the Theirin murder." When he simply stared at her, she added: "Besides, I would never come to gloat."  
He wrinkled his nose, but acquiesced. "I suppose not. That's not your style. Fine, come in and we'll talk. I can't make any promises."  
"Thank you for hearing us out," Elizabeth said, and followed Rory into his living room.  
"So you're the ex-boyfriend," Arainai said cheerfully, making both Elizabeth and Rory glare at him. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. You let a good one get away."  
"Arainai, shut up." Elizabeth could tell Rory hadn't had enough coffee – or booze – for this. Her ex just grunted and remained standing. "Rory, this is Zevran Arainai. Arainai, this is Roland Gilmore."  
"So what do you want from me?" Rory said. "And why exactly should I help you, after the way you treated me? After you walked out five years ago without a word since?"  
She would remain calm. This was strictly professional. And besides, it wasn't like Rory didn't share the blame. "Only to lie low for a few days. We'll move on soon, but right now Denerim is too hot for both of us. Him, for defecting, and me, for helping him. But they won't even know we're here; you should be in no danger." Going to her parents or brother would have been predictable. Finding Leliana in Jader would have been predictable. But there wouldn't be any obvious trail with Rory. The only thing that bothered her was that it was in Highever, which was still a little predictable. "If you don't help us, that's fine… but I don't know where we'll go next. And have you heard the radio? We were just chased through downtown Denerim yesterday morning. With bullets."  
"They mentioned that, yeah. Didn't pay much attention since it didn't involve sports." Rory frowned harder. "So if you don't stay here, there's a large probability the Crows will find you and kill you."  
"Well, we might be able to get away again," Arainai said. "But it would be nice to not have to until we have a proper plan, eh, Liz?"  
"I told you not to call me Liz," Elizabeth snapped.  
Rory stared at her in distrust. "And that's all you want from me."  
"Yes."  
"Nothing to do with the fact that your… witness looks like a fashion model."  
"Nothing at all."  
"Well, maybe just a little bit," Arainai said, and she almost punched him.  
Rory saw her fist clench and snorted. "You got yourself a handful there, Lady. Fine. You can have the spare room. I won't tell anyone you're here. But you can't stay here indefinitely."  
"I won't impose on you longer than necessary," Elizabeth said, a little stiffly. The old endearment bothered her, twinged her heart a little – but at least she had what she needed.  
She hoped she could figure out a course of action in the next couple days. Before the Crows figured out where they were and descended on them.

When Rory had gone to work, and she and Arainai were left alone, she lit up a cigarette and smoked it viciously to try to steady herself. "What was that ego contest all about?"  
"Your ex is far too serious and far too easy to rile up," Arainai said, smirking from where he leaned against the wall with his hands in his trouser pockets. "As a matter of fact, so are you. Something you share in common? Something that drove you apart?"  
"That topic is off-limits, Arainai. Now – what do we have to go on? Is this Taliesin person relevant?"  
His grin widened, revealing even white teeth. "I won't ask you about your ex-boyfriends if you don't ask me about mine."  
Oh. That explained a few things. His flirtation was all an act.  
He saw her relax and snickered; the laugh lines around his eyes contracted, distorting his tattoos. "No, it's not an act. I'm bi, Liz dear. And you attract me as much as Taliesin ever did. Especially when you use that beautiful blue unimpressed look on me. Yes, that one."  
Flustered and irritated, she directed her gaze away from him. "Can you stop wasting time, please? And _stop_ calling me Liz."  
"We have nothing but time, now. For a little while. But to answer your question, I don't believe Taliesin Emery is relevant to our future, no. Relevant to my past, and why I came to be at your side, and he is undoubtedly A) sent to kill me to fulfill the delicious rules of irony, and B) utterly loyal to the Crows, but he will know no more about who sent me to kill Theirin than I do."  
That was more than she could have asked for. "Understood. So then – who will know? Your handler?"  
"No – I killed him before I ran. Also no – contracts always have at least three layers between client and executor. For everyone's safety. It's almost as if they anticipated this sort of situation." He winked. "I know you'd love to investigate the Crows and lay every one of their wicked deeds to light, but for this case, it'll be far easier going from the other side."  
Her eyes opened wide. "You really did cut ties to your past, didn't you? No wonder they've been trying so hard to kill you."  
He shrugged. "Yes, well, they would have killed me before I got to you otherwise."  
"Ah. I'm sorry."  
"Don't be. C'est la vie."  
"So you speak Orlesian as well," she commented.  
"Je parle de nombreuses langues," he answered, with a slight bow. "Qunlat is a beast, however."  
"I wouldn't be able to tell," she said, and was annoyed with herself for changing the conversation yet again. "So – Taliesin Emery is not a lead, and your former handler is not a lead… Ah!"  
"You have an idea?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.  
She stepped into the living room briefly and returned with the morning newspaper. "The stock exchange. It seems to have an uncanny way of knowing the truth even of things seemingly unrelated to business." And this wasn't exactly unrelated to business.  
"Or of jumping at shadows," he said, but came to stand behind her as she flipped through to the appropriate section.  
She tried not to pay any attention, but it was difficult, when he was leaning so casually on the back of her chair – and those strong, wiry arms had caught her and held her and saved her from cracking her skull on concrete – and his breath was soft and gentle almost in her ear. "Well, the Korcari Company's gone up five points. Kinloch Corp. is holding steady… The Brecilian Co-operative, likewise… Oh, wow, Theirin Inc. suddenly fell ten points overnight." She frowned and flipped back to the business articles. Perhaps she should have started there. "Does it say why…? Let's see… rumours of power struggles behind the scenes? Loghain Mac Tyr and daughter Anora Theirin née Mac Tyr reportedly arguing heatedly…? Rendon Howe silent on company developments. Intriguing, and definitely suspicious. Still… this could simply be the fallout of Cailan's death, and not because one or all of them was the instigator… And why did Korcari go up? No news on that at all. So… we need to check into the personal records of the movers and shakers of Theirin Inc. and Korcari Company."  
"Brilliant," said a breathy, dry voice in her ear, and she turned to see Arainai's tanned face about an inch from hers. Her heart jumped, but she didn't move away.  
"Really?"  
"Oh, yes. You shouldn't doubt yourself so. Do you think I would think to check the business section?"  
"I need to be realistic," she said, hardly aware that she was speaking in a whisper. "Especially now, when any mistake I make could result in more death – particularly ours."  
He seemed undeterred. "I have to confess, I would really like to kiss you now."  
Her mind went blank. It was so sudden! They'd only met two days ago! Also getting involved with witnesses – and/or murderers – was an incredibly bad idea! Her mouth wouldn't respond to her mind's signals to say no, however. Wynne would have a field day.  
Her heart was fit to jump out of her chest as he leaned in slowly, giving her time to move away if she wanted to. She didn't know what she wanted. But on some level, she wanted to kiss him too, even if it was a terrible, terrible idea. So she let him.  
His lips met hers, gentle and sweet, and her eyes drifted closed. He had the scent of cigarette smoke and sweat, more strongly now, but he still smelled faintly of cypress and lavender, which smelled… lonely. He had no one in the world right now but her. And he'd saved her life, trusted her all this way… His only wish was to be free.  
Her eyes flew open and she drew back. "It's not a good idea."  
"As you wish," he said softly, gently, and she felt her heart slipping at the sincere look in his amber eyes.

Dinner had been awkward; Rory was still glaring at Arainai, and Arainai was still making smart-ass remarks in return. Afterwards, she herded Arainai back into the room they'd been given. No reason to bother Rory more than necessary.  
Although it seemed Rory didn't mind speaking with _her_ , at least. "Elizabeth, can you leave your witness unobserved for a moment?"  
"No, I'll get up to all kinds of nefarious things while she's not got her eye on me," Arainai said.  
Rory rolled his eyes, but she stepped towards him. "Yes, I can. What would you like to talk about?"  
He waited until they were in the kitchen, where he poured them both a beer. "I really missed you. Why didn't you get in contact sooner?"  
Rather than only show up when she needed help, and seem like a heartless selfish person? "Breaking up hurt, Rory. And I was angry. I missed you, but I needed the time to myself. And then I was busy, and then it was awkward."  
"I still talk to your parents sometimes. They still like me."  
"That's nice."  
"And you're still a police officer."  
"Detective."  
"Whatever. Do you get shot at regularly? It's way too dangerous."  
"I'm good at being a detective. I like it. It isn't usually this exciting." _You could have called_ me _, if you missed me so much. If you were so worried about my career choice_. "Also, don't forget that's one of the reasons we broke up." Her voice came out sharper than she intended, and she flinched.  
Rory's eyes slid sideways. "I wouldn't forget that," he said, and his voice was cold. "Just like I wasn't going to forget your jealousy whenever I so much as glanced at another woman."  
She sighed. "I've grown up a little since then. If we were to get involved again, I would be a better person now. But… I don't want to get involved again, Rory."  
"Yes, because you have your gigolo witness."  
"Now who's jealous?" she demanded.  
"I'm just trying – just saying…" He stopped and tried again. "You only asked for my help in sheltering you, not my advice on your love life… but I care enough still that I don't want to see you get hurt."  
"Understood, but it's not helping. No, I don't want to get involved with anyone. Not Arainai, not you, not my partner on the force."  
"Is he cute?"  
"I guess so. In a big puppy-dog kind of way. It doesn't matter. I'm not getting attached, and I'm going to keep doing my job. Even if it gets me killed eventually."  
"Sooner, rather than later, it looks like," he muttered, finishing his beer. "I did want to see how you felt, if you still felt anything… but I guess it's a bad idea." He offered a pained, lopsided smile. "Which makes me sad, because you're hotter than ever, even in those unflattering work clothes."  
She snorted and allowed a small smile. "Thanks, Rory. It seems you're doing well for yourself as well. I do wish you well. And maybe after this we'll keep in touch better."  
"I'd like that."

Later, she was getting ready for another night of sleeping in her clothes when she heard the phone ring and Rory answered it. She perked up, then scolded herself for being paranoid. It wasn't as if Rory couldn't get phone calls in his daily life.  
But Rory knocked on her door a moment later. "It's for you."  
She shared an alarmed look with Arainai. "Who is it?"  
"It's a policeman. Alistair Theirin?"  
"Alistair?" She opened the door. "My partner? How did he know we were here?"  
"I called your boss," Rory said reluctantly. "Earlier, before we had our little talk. I thought he ought to know where you were. I guess he passed it on." And Alistair, once he had a little information, had probably done some digging of his own to get Rory's number.  
"You shouldn't have done that," Arainai said, for once very serious. "The Crows definitely have sources in Drakon HQ. Wire-taps, agents… We'll have to move on tomorrow."  
Rory looked shamefaced. "Sorry. I thought…"  
She picked up the phone receiver lying on the table. "Alistair?"  
"Elizabeth, you all right?"  
"I'm fine, Alistair. Are you all right?"  
"Yes, nothing happened today except cleaning up the mess you left yesterday. I was so worried, there were dead people and crashed cars and hysterical civilians everywhere, and you were gone, and _your apartment_ got _trashed_ …"  
"I did get away," she assured him. "But it's not a good idea to be calling. I'm safe for now, and I'll let you know how I'm doing when I can, but we're trying to get away from the Crows and continue the investigation right now and I might not be in touch for a while. Tell Duncan, too."  
"Okay. How's your arm?"  
"Still hurts like hell, but I didn't have to use it much today."  
"Oh, and your witness has a scary aim with a pistol. All the bodies we recovered were headshots. And you were in a speeding car. Keenan saw you, you were going like fifty over the speed limit?"  
"Makes sense," she said. "You be careful, okay? I don't want them coming after you, too."  
"Okay. Stay safe, as much as you can."  
"I'll try. Good night, Alistair.


	7. Chapter 7: How Long

Chapter 7: How Long

 _How long, how long baby_  
 _How long has it been_  
 _How long you gonna keep me wondering_  
 _How long before you see_  
 _Stallin' me was wrong_  
 _How long_

 _How long, how long you gonna keep_  
 _Slappin' my hands away_  
 _How long you gonna keep my love at bay_  
 _How long before you're sure_  
 _My love is strong_  
 _How long_

 _How long, how long you gonna keep_  
 _Tellin' me you like me fine_  
 _How long until I'm gonna make you mine_  
 _How long before you wake up_  
 _And find your good man gone_  
 _How long_

She woke to find that at some point in the night, Arainai had rolled over and snuggled her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist – there was only one bed in the guest room and it was none too wide. Now that she was awake, she should have moved away, maybe started getting up – what time was it? Was Rory up yet? But she didn't.  
She knew what she'd told Rory the night before, and she still held to it. But it had been a long, long time since she'd been held, even if the one holding her was asleep, and she wasn't so jaded that she didn't yearn to feel that warmth and comfort again. Even from someone like Arainai.  
And she couldn't help feeling something strongly towards him. Was it the danger they'd been through together? Was it his loneliness, her loneliness speaking to each other? Even his teasing and flirtation didn't really bother her as much as she pretended it did, she just didn't want to let down her walls, to be vulnerable. To anyone. She'd done well in her independence and reserved pride, and to let someone into her life… especially with such a tarnished past and unstable future… was just too frightening.  
But right here, right now, his arms were around her, and his warmth was at her back, and she could feel and hear his breathing, and she would let herself enjoy that.  
She shifted and he lifted his head. "Liz?"  
Oh Maker, he hadn't been asleep like she'd assumed. And oh Maker, his voice was sexy in the morning. "Don't call me Liz."  
"As you command, mi amor. At least for the next thirty seconds."  
"Arainai-"  
He raised himself to his elbow to lean over, to see her face. "I do wish you'd call me Zev. We've been through a lot together since we met, and you're the only one I can even remotely trust… surely we're closer than surnames."  
She glanced up at him. "All right… Zev."  
"Although it was cute when you first knew me and called me 'Mr. Zev'." He grinned widely, and she found herself smiling back. "Ah! So you can smile. I'd wondered. Miss Competent, Strong Detective isn't allowed to smile about anything."  
"This case has not given me much reason to smile," she said wistfully. "And no, I don't smile much on the job anyway."  
"People don't take you seriously if you smile? They see a pretty face and think there's nothing deeper?"  
"Frequently, yes." She hadn't missed the compliment, either.  
He nodded. "Same here. That's why I'm always smiling." He smiled again. "Then they never see it coming."  
"Life is difficult enough as a female on the force without playing mind games like that," she said. "But thank you for understanding."  
He looked at her, and there was something in his gaze, something tender and compassionate, that set her heart beating faster. "I should like to kiss you again."  
"Scandalous," she said lightly. "We're in a bed. You shouldn't."  
His mouth smirked but the look in his eyes didn't change. "Afraid I might try something? It's true I've seduced many, many women. And some men. But I would never force anything on anyone. I might be a bad, bad man, but I'm a respectful lover."  
"Zevran…" She rolled a little to look at him more directly, pushed herself to sitting. He followed her. "It's not that. We've only known each other for two days. Our future is completely unknown and uncertain, and for me that's a barrier, not an incentive, for a… a relationship."  
He put his head on one side. "But you like me." His eyes were mesmerizing. If she wasn't careful, she'd forget what she was doing and kiss him anyway.  
"I do," she admitted. "I like you far more than I have any right to. You're not just a pretty face and a quick wit. You're cunning, and brave, and laugh in the face of trouble, and you've only supported me since I took you in…"  
He reached out and touched her face. "Do you trust me?"  
She couldn't help leaning into the touch. "Shouldn't that be 'do you love me'?"  
"I've found that trust is a far better measure of desire than love," he answered, and it was like a light went on in her head, because he was absolutely right. "Especially on short acquaintance."  
"And you trust me," she said slowly, softly.  
"That's right."  
"Why?"  
"It isn't obvious to you?" His smile was a mix of warmth and teasing, but she shook her head. She was a bossy, cranky detective who kept distancing herself from him. "Then I will tell you. You're a strong, fierce, brave woman, and that's not mentioning how beautiful and sexy you are, but you're… the only person to… believe in me… in a long time. Even with the short time we've had, there's only been one other person in my life to believe in me so much, and she's… not here anymore. Even if destiny and I haven't given you much of a choice, you still made that choice to take a chance on me, and I appreciate it. …And you _are_ a damn fine driver. And a skilled workaholic."  
She closed her eyes. It was an overwhelming answer. But she could let herself be vulnerable. Just a little. "Then… I trust you, too. At least enough to kiss you."  
"That's enough for now," he said, smiling, and his arms were around her and his lips were pressed against hers. She put her arms around him, tangling her fingers in his silky golden hair.  
He was a _very_ good kisser. If he wasn't lying about seducing many women, that was accounted for. She, on the other hand, hadn't kissed anyone since Rory five years ago. But it wasn't difficult to remember, and now that they'd begun, she responded to him passionately.  
She ended up on her back with Zevran leaning over her, locked in each other's embrace. It was difficult to think, especially when all she wanted was more – more kisses, more closeness, more physical and emotional intimacy.  
She wanted it _now_. And she knew from experience that was a bad idea.  
Also probably bad idea: hooking up with a man in her ex's house, especially after her ex had repeatedly accused her of hooking up with said man and she'd repeatedly denied it.  
Definitely an absolutely bad idea: wasting time making out with her witness – _becoming emotionally compromised_ , her brain whispered to her – when it was highly likely the Crows knew where they were. They wouldn't be idle while she was lying here enjoying herself.  
He was getting a bit more handsy, but she pushed him off abruptly. "We need to get out of here."  
He stared at her in hurt confusion. "What are you talking about? I thought you liked and trusted me?"  
She began gathering her things, completely business again. "The Crows. Aren't they coming? We can't be wasting time while they gather. And we have to get Rory out of here, too, at least temporarily."  
"He'll be off to work soon, and then he'll be in little to no danger," Zevran said dismissively. "You worry too much, mi amor. We have time enough."  
"He's in relative but dubious safety until he comes back from work, at which point he is in as much danger as we are," she snapped.  
"At which point they'll have searched the house for us, found us gone, and come after _us_ again."  
"That would be stupid and I don't buy it," she said. "You don't think they'll lie in wait in case we told him where we go? Or that we'd tell him something of what we know, and that they wouldn't silence him?" She turned on him. "Your complacency, the posturing, kissing me in his house – what do you have against him?"  
His face was hard and serious. "Only that he tried to keep down a wonderful woman from fulfilling her dreams. But the kissing was all for your sake."  
"Is that all?" she demanded. "It's not jealousy? I think you're jealous, Arainai."  
He flinched as if the renewed formality was a slap in the face. "It's _not_ jealousy. I don't want him dead! I'm an assassin, not a murderer, Cousland."  
His formality was definitely a slap in the face. "From my end, there's not much difference," she muttered, grabbing her coat. "Are we leaving?"  
"I'm leaving," Zevran said, his voice hard and angry. "You may do as you please."  
For a moment, her face slackened in surprise. She hadn't realized she'd pushed him so hard. But yes, he was stomping to the door, pulling on his coat and overcoat with short, sharp movements, and jammed his hat on his head.  
For a moment, he paused while she stared at him, shocked that he was actually walking out, and for a moment his face betrayed his own conflicted emotions. But then his defences slammed down again. "If I learn anything, I'll contact you. Goodbye, Detective."  
"Y-you're going to be in danger on your own," she stammered, wavering between fear and concern, and her own anger at him.  
His amber eyes met hers for an instant, flashing with bitterness. "I can take care of myself, better than you can. And what do you care? I'm a murderer, after all." He shut the door firmly, and a moment later she heard the front door shut equally firmly.  
She was speechless, unable to process what had just happened.

"I thought she was different," he muttered to himself, the pain of emotional betrayal poisoning his heart. "I thought she actually might care about me, even a little. But ha! Who could ever care about an assassin- a murderer? Who could ever care about someone who's taken a life? Like lives don't end every day. I suppose she's never fired that gun she carries in her life."  
He was marching swiftly down the street, hands in pockets, hat pulled low over his face. He didn't have much of a plan, and he didn't care, he didn't care about anything…  
That wasn't true, and his steps slowed, though he didn't stop, not yet. She had put her life on the line for him, without hesitation, without even the certainty that he could deliver on his end of the bargain. She'd been shot in the arm, her apartment had been invaded, her car ruined, she'd been forced into hiding, all because of him. He still owed her, even if she'd suddenly assaulted him with her ignorance and lack of understanding.  
And even if she was ignorant and judgemental, wasn't she only acting harshly because she was worried? The way she had pulled away from his embrace and jumped up, she'd thought of something that scared her, and everything else she'd said only stemmed from that fear. He was a blind fool to have taken so much umbrage, run away so fast. The shock and hurt in those light blue eyes still struck him in his carefully guarded heart. He should go back… They still needed to work together to solve their case…  
"Zevran."  
He stopped in his tracks. It was not Liz's voice. He would have loved for it to be Liz's voice. But it was not. It was a smooth male voice, and not one he wanted to hear for a long time, if ever again. "Taliesin."  
"Imagine my surprise to hear you'd abandoned the Crows, Zev. When they told me about the assignment, I knew I had to take it – to see if it really was you. And now here you are in Highever! What brings you out here? And where's your little friend?"  
He turned to face his former partner, former friend, former lover. "What do you want, Taliesin?"  
"So cold, my love. I want you to come back. I want it to be like it was in the good old days."  
"It can never go back to the good old days," Zevran said bitterly. "Not after what happened to Rinna."  
Taliesin spread his hands disarmingly. "You're as much to blame as I. That's why you left? To take up with the other side, to try to bring us all down in revenge? You're more heartless than I thought. Or was it the lady detective who got to you? Her feminine wiles pierced your defences and stripped you of all sense of family, of loyalty, of logic?"  
"Don't you dare speak to me of loyalty. You leave her alone," he snarled. "She still doesn't know anything that could harm the Crows or their clients."  
"You come with me, darling, and we'll leave her alone," Taliesin said smoothly, his eyes like ice.  
He wavered. He didn't trust Taliesin farther than he could throw him, if even that. Chances were, if he went with him, Liz would still be attacked. On the other hand, if he didn't go with him, Liz would definitely be attacked, and he wasn't around to help her. She'd be caught as flat-footed as last time, and she'd barely made it away with his help that time.  
A proper hero he was now, going to certain death on the slight chance of saving the woman he sort of liked a lot. He did owe it to her…  
 _What nonsense_.  
"You've always been a liar, Taliesin," he said heavily. "You should know better than to lie to me. You know I know you."  
"Then you know it's too late to help her anyway, and you should just come along. Save yourself some pain, my love."  
One last try. "Taliesin… haven't you ever wanted… even once… to be free?"  
"No one escapes the Crows, Zevran."

Rory knocked, then poked his head into the room where she still sat staring at the wall. "Where's the elf, Arainai? Did he leave already? Aren't you going after him?"  
"It seems we're splitting up for a bit," she forced herself to say through frozen lips. She hadn't meant to call him a murderer. Only that both murderers and assassins killed people and their cases ended up on her desk either way. "Perhaps permanently. But you and I, we should leave for a while as well. I know you're going to work soon, but go stay with my parents for a few days. I don't want any reprisals to come to you while I'm still a target."  
Rory frowned. "What about afterwards?"  
"If I'm not a target, you won't be a target, don't worry." She managed a smile. "Just be careful for a few days-"  
The doorbell rang. Zevran, back again?  
No, wait, it was probably-  
Rory was already going to answer it.  
"Wait!" she cried.  
The door opened and the sound of a gunshot obliterated all of her senses.


	8. Chapter 8: You and Your Friend

Chapter 8: You and Your Friend

 _Will you and your friend come around_  
 _Are you and your friend gonna get on down_  
 _Will you and your friend come around_  
 _Or are you and your friend gonna let me down_

 _If you talk to one another_  
 _I'm a hungry man_  
 _Let me know one way or the other_  
 _So I can make my plans_

 _Will you and your friend come around_  
 _Are you and your friend gonna get on down_  
 _Will you and your friend come around_  
 _Are you and your friend gonna get on down_

 _I relive the situation_  
 _Still see it in my mind_  
 _You got my imagination_  
 _Working overtime_

 _Baby, baby_

Taliesin looked startled, then looked down at his midsection, where a bloody patch was beginning to form, then up at Zevran, his hands still in his pockets – and his right pocket torn and smoking. "You- you-"  
"I will not go back to the Crows, Taliesin," Zevran said, and Taliesin fell backwards.  
His former lover's face was twisted in pain and hatred. "H-Howe… will punish… you…"  
Howe. As in Rendon Howe? The words had been so faint, he'd hardly heard them, but…  
He needed to find a payphone, _now_.

She shrieked, though she could hardly hear over the ringing in her ears. Ringing not from the emotional trauma, but from the point-blank gunshot.  
And now Rory Gilmore was dead on the floor of his own home.  
Fierce anger bubbled up within her, and before Rory had finished collapsing to the ground, before the guns had moved to track her, before she'd even finished screaming, she was behind a corner. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her gun. She still had six bullets. Time to use a couple.  
She put her shoulder behind the chest of drawers and heaved at it, shoving it out into the hallway as a barricade. She could hear their footsteps – four of them. Not much room for error.  
Something small and hard rattled around the corner. _Grenade!_ She threw herself backwards, diving behind the bed, and huddled there as it went off, metal fragments shattering the window, tearing through curtains and blankets. She couldn't hear the footsteps, but she could feel the vibrations. They were coming for her.  
She popped up, fired – once, twice, three times. Felt a bullet nick her ear, felt one pass through her hat. Only one man left, but he'd ducked into the living room.  
It was quiet now, and she listened for him, to hear if he was moving to flank her. Rory's house had squeaky floorboards, there was no way even a Crow assassin could remain silent now.  
The phone rang. And rang again.  
The assassin had moved to the kitchen, and picked it up. "Hello? … This is Mark Travisson. … She's dead-"  
Elizabeth shot him in the ribs, then moved to grab the phone. "No I'm not. Hello?"  
"Liz!" And her whole body warmed with relief. "You're all right!"  
"So are you! Ah, but… Rory's dead." She shook her head, still shocked that it had happened, unable to grieve just yet with the adrenaline coursing through her.  
"I'm sorry. Listen, I don't have much time. Taliesin dropped the name of Howe. You should probably…" There was a pause, as if he was scanning his surroundings, then he said "I need to run. You should run too. Take Gilmore's car – he won't need it."  
"I'll… see you again, right?"  
"Hope so. Take care." The line went dead and the operator tone hummed in her ear.  
No time to lose. The Crows would find out very quickly that their ambush had mostly failed. She tossed away her hat – it wasn't very stylish to have bullet holes, and very suspicious – and after only a tiny hesitation, grabbed one of Rory's. Car keys were where? They were in his pocket, weren't they.  
"I'm sorry," she mumbled as she knelt beside him, and now it was hard to hold back tears. His handsome ruddy face didn't look in pain at all, only surprised, staring at the ceiling in blank wonder.  
She'd wondered sometimes, when she saw bodies in her investigation, what the difference was when they had a soul. She didn't have to wonder any longer. Rory'd had a soul, and now he did not, was dead and cooling, eyes hollow and motionless. She closed them gently.  
She ought to phone the police before she ran.  
There was no time.  
"I'm sorry," she said again, grabbing the keys and standing. "This isn't what you deserve. I'll make it right by finishing this case. I promise."  
Her arm hadn't hurt while she was under fire. It was beginning to throb now, and both her hands were shaking.

It was a long drive back to Denerim, and the first place she went was to Wynne's. She couldn't go home; it was undoubtedly watched. She couldn't go to Drakon HQ; Zevran had said the Crows were all over it. "Wynne, I need you to phone the chief. Ask him to meet me at the Gnawed Noble."  
Duncan showed up promptly, even early, with Alistair in tow. Her partner's face lit up on seeing her, and he rushed to her and hugged her. "Oh, I am so glad to see you again. I've been so worried…"  
"I know, Alistair," she said gently. "It's been a long couple of days."  
"You said you had news of a sort?" Duncan asked.  
"Yes, sir," she said, and told him everything.  
Duncan stroked his beard thoughtfully when she was done. "It's intriguing, but I won't be able to get you a warrant for Howe's office."  
"No, I didn't think so," Elizabeth said. "What do you suggest then, sir?"  
"I can think of nothing that is legal, and I do not condone illegal actions by my own officers," Duncan said, frowning. "As for Mr. Arainai, I'm not sure what we can do for him. If Rendon Howe cannot be investigated, the law would be more than happy to have him as a substitute."  
"That's not proper justice, sir," she said.  
"I know, Detective. But someone needs to take responsibility for Cailan's murder, and he's the one best placed to do it."  
"Or to take blame," she muttered.  
Fortunately for her, her boss ignored that. "If he manages to help you find evidence in an above-board, lawful manner, then I'd be happy to see what I can do about arranging informant status for him. But until then, he is still the prime suspect. Now, you're still in danger, and currently homeless, aren't you? Miss Rossignol arrived in Denerim earlier today and came to us to find out what had happened to her apartment."  
Elizabeth smiled ruefully. "I'm sure she did."  
"We're putting her up in the Alienage Apartments; old, but clean. It might be a good idea for you to join her there."  
"A roof over my head would be a relief," Elizabeth said. "Well, thank you for listening, sir." _Even if your hands are tied to do anything else right now_.  
"I'll drive you there, Detective."

Leliana was cooking dinner when she walked in, and turned to face her. "Elizabeth! You look exhausted. What's been going on? All I got out of Chief Arrynson was that you're being chased by the Crows for some reason, and that's why our apartment is completely wrecked."  
Elizabeth slumped at the tiny kitchen table, took her hat off, and ran a hand over her head. She seriously needed a shower. Her hair felt extremely gross. "That's the gist of it. The Crows were hired to murder Theirin, and the man who did it was helping me discover information in exchange for safety."  
"Oh, dear. Did you make any progress?"  
"Some, but not enough. I need to investigate Rendon Howe, but the only word I have to go on is the word of my informant's former lover, and I don't know what he actually said."  
"Do you trust him?"  
"About this? Yes."  
Leliana's eyes narrowed. "What do you not trust him on?"  
Elizabeth laughed tiredly. "What don't I not trust him on? He's an assassin and a flirt."  
Leliana snickered. "Your kind of man."  
"Not really… and that's what worries me."  
"You're not making sense. Here, have some dinner."  
"So why don't you just go investigate Howe?" Leliana asked, once Elizabeth's appetite had begun to slow down.  
"I don't have a warrant, and the chief won't give me one. And I understand, the evidence isn't strong enough for one, but it's frustrating…"  
"Do you really need a warrant?" Leliana asked slyly.  
Elizabeth frowned at her. "Of course I do, it's not legal otherwise, and what good is the law if the police break it?"  
"Ah, but what good is the law if rich men murder each other and sow chaos and destruction throughout the country?" Leliana rejoined. "Besides, I can get you in and out and no one will ever suspect you were looking for evidence."  
"They already suspect," Elizabeth said. But Leliana had her interest.  
And the singer knew it. "You're lucky that when I went home to grab some things, I just swept my entire closet into my suitcase. There's sure to be a few pieces in there that are suitable, and will fit you, even though you're so tall."  
"Tell me about it when I'm out of the shower," Elizabeth said. "I haven't showered in about three days, and they've been exciting, sweaty days."  
"Go, go, shoo, ma cherie. All will be ready for you when you emerge."

What Leliana had waiting for her when she emerged was not what she had expected, and for a minute she was ready to veto it just on principal. "It has _glitter_."  
"Of course it does!" Leliana said. "This one's from when I was just a chorus line gal. High kicks everywhere. Of course, I've filled out a bit since then, so it might need some adjustments…"  
"Why do I have to wear it?" Elizabeth demanded, although the… thing Leliana had set aside for herself was even more gaudy.  
"Because you're not looking for evidence tonight," Leliana said. "You're looking for Rendon Howe, in order to entertain him."  
"The last person I want to see tonight is Rendon Howe," Elizabeth muttered. "And won't he see through that immediately? He is a friend of my parents, after all." Although now she wondered just how far that friendship went. He was supposed to be an even closer friend of Theirin and Mac Tyr.  
"You're not actually looking for him," Leliana explained patiently. "You're just saying that to all the guards so they'll let you by. They won't question it, and late enough at night, they won't even phone ahead to check."  
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "You've done this before."  
"Oui, ma cherie."  
She felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up within her. She had begun the day kissing an attractive man, had her ex-boyfriend murdered in front of her, shot and killed four men, had a very long drive, and now her roommate was expecting her to put on sparkly lingerie and seduce her way past guards to go illegally steal the evidence she needed for her case. The luke-warm shower had reminded her just how tired she was; she wanted nothing than to lie down and sleep for twelve hours. She clamped down on the laugh. She couldn't lose control yet.  
Should she, or shouldn't she?  
There wasn't really a question about it. This wasn't her duty. In fact, it was her duty not to do it. But if she didn't do it, she had no idea how her investigation would proceed. If her investigation didn't proceed, and quickly, she was going to end up dead in a ditch somewhere.  
But that didn't mean she didn't have to come up with some kind of excuse for presenting this evidence that would fly with the law. And quickly. "All right. I'll do it. How the hell does one put this thing on?"  
"Excellent!" Leliana clapped her hands.

"This is degrading to our gender," Elizabeth complained about an hour later, well on their way to Theirin Inc. Her hair was done up, soft and wavy, and her heavy overcoat concealed most of the awful costume she wore, but it did not cover her toned bare shins or the matching gaudy shoes. ("The shoes are the best part!" Leliana had said.) And if she had to, she could tug a little at her lapels and show a coy flash of cleavage. Awful.  
"Yes, it is," Leliana agreed. "To both genders. I think of it this way – if men want to stop being 'tricked' by female sexuality, then…"  
"Then they have to stop falling for it?"  
"Well, yes, and that every one of them has to start treating all women with the respect we deserve."  
Elizabeth frowned. "I'm not sure that's how it works."  
"Well, normally you work the other angle, and that's good for you. But the world's a messy place, cherie. Some of us have to, and will take advantage of everything we can just to survive."  
"All right," Elizabeth said, and shut up.  
Would Zevran would treat her with respect no matter what she wore?  
True to her word, Leliana got them into Theirin Inc.'s main building. Elizabeth had never had such a fake silly smile plastered on her face for so long, and her tiredness and stress and tension was only in her advantage in that it gave her a slightly hysterical giggly tendency. As long as she didn't mood-swing into tears, it would be fine.  
"You ladies have a gooood night," one of the night watchmen said, seeing them into the elevator to the top floor with a smirk.  
"So we get in, find the safe in his office, figure out the combination, find any damning evidence we can like a contract or a letter, seal it up again, and leave," Leliana said. "It's a good thing we'll have a couple hours up here."  
"You know he has a safe in his office?"  
"Please, everyone has a safe in their office. My only concern is that he might keep such a document at his home, instead. But if this doesn't work, we'll come up with a plan to access that one, too, never fear."  
The elevator door opened and she found herself face to face with Rendon and Nathaniel Howe.  
She felt a scream rising inside and choked it down, slapping that same silly smile on her face.  
"Ah, there you are, Mr. Howe! We were just looking for you." Leliana always had a smooth cover.  
Howe frowned mightily, confused, taking in their somewhat inappropriate appearance. "You were? Detective Cousland and Leliana Rossignol?"  
"It's a bit of a story," Elizabeth said, modulating the smile into something a little more normal to her. "We were… actually… sent here for Nathaniel. You are Nathaniel Howe, yes? In training at the Warden Academy? It's a pleasure to meet you, even in… odd circumstances like this." She put out her hand, and Nathaniel, after some hesitation, shook it.  
"It's good to meet you as well, Detective," he said, blinking at her. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you mean by 'long story' and 'sent here for me'?"  
"Perhaps we could have this conversation not in the elevator?" Elizabeth said.  
"Yes, of course," Howe said. "Let's speak in my office. The night guards don't need to hear of this." They returned down the hall to a fine office with large plate-glass windows. When they were settled, he nodded. "Proceed."  
"Well, you see…" Leliana began, having read Elizabeth's mind somehow, "our apartment's been a bit… destroyed in some ruckus recently, and we've had to move." She had casually in her chair with her legs tucked under her, a pose that made it look completely accidental that most of her collarbone was exposed by her overcoat, with a hint of sparkles lower down.  
"Money's been short this month," Elizabeth said, "and in order to scrape together a deposit on a new place, we've… had to resort to this. Apparently you've been doing quite well in your classes, and one of your fellows, well, asked us to come visit you."  
Nathaniel blinked again. "Really? Who was it?"  
"Oh, one doesn't ask names in cases like this," Leliana said with a wink. "Anonymity would be worth so little if we asked!"  
"I would have thought your parents would take care of you," Rendon said to Elizabeth. "Your reputations for both of you are not served well by this."  
"I have my pride, and my independence," Elizabeth said. "I choose to swallow my pride for my independence's sake…" Would she really? Could she herself believe such a thing? She had to, or Rendon would sniff out their lie in a moment.  
"What happened to your apartment?" Nathaniel asked innocently.  
"Oh, I came home from my concert in Jader and found the door smashed in, bullet holes in the windows, and the living room looked like it had been torn apart by a wild animal!" Leliana exclaimed. "Elizabeth was out at work so I had no idea how it happened. Perhaps some gangs had a disagreement?" She shuddered expressively. "I had always thought our neighbourhood was safe."  
"That's a shame," Nathaniel said sympathetically. "I hope you can find a new place to live soon." But Elizabeth hadn't missed the flicker in Howe's eyes.  
"Yes," she said, standing from her seat. "And towards that end, if we might be allowed to fulfill our part of the bargain?" A member of the police masquerading as a hooker. What had her career come to?  
Nathaniel blushed and looked down. "I don't know… When I graduate, you'll be my superior. I… don't want to objectify you."  
Good fellow, but she needed to speak with him without his father present. "I'm afraid I can't give you much of a choice. What you say is true, and I'm not exactly pleased about the circumstances either, but I gave my word. And you can rest assured we're being well compensated." Most of which was a flat lie, but what choice did she have?  
"You are a woman of strange honour," Howe said, with the slightest hint of sardonicism buried in his tones, and rose and bowed. "Do as you wish. Nathaniel, I expect you home before morning."  
He left, and Leliana and Elizabeth pounced.  
"Now that he's gone, let me explain why we're really here," Elizabeth whispered, and Nathaniel's eyes widened.


	9. Chapter 9: Fade to Black

Chapter 9: Fade to Black

 _I wonder where you are tonight_  
 _You're probably on the rampage somewhere_  
 _You have been known to take delight in_  
 _Gettin' in somebody's hair (I mean)_  
 _You always had the knack_  
 _Fade to black_

 _I bet you already made a pass_  
 _I see a darkened room somewhere_  
 _You run your finger round the rim of his glass_  
 _Run your fingers through his hair, they_  
 _Scratch across his back_  
 _Fade to black_

 _Well maybe it's all for the best, but I_  
 _Wish I'd never been lassoed_  
 _Maybe it's some kind of test_  
 _I wish I'd never been tattooed_  
 _Or been to hell and back_  
 _Fade to black_

"D-detective?" Nathaniel stammered, as Leliana pinned him down and Elizabeth stood over him, fixing him with a steely, no-nonsense stare.  
"The fact is, I'm still on an investigation right now," Elizabeth said. "I didn't want to say so with your father present, but you're about to become a policeman yourself, aren't you? So I'd like your cooperation."  
"Y-yes, whatever you say," Nathaniel said, perking up. "What must I do, ma'am?"  
 _Please don't ask about warrants_. "Your father keeps a great deal of company records in this safe, does he not?" Elizabeth said. "We need to search it."  
"Ah, you need the combination. Hang on, I might know it… It might be the same as the one at home." Leliana let him up, and he crossed to the safe and knelt before it. "Wait." He looked up at Elizabeth. "Does this mean my father is a suspect?"  
Elizabeth sighed wearily. "I'm afraid so. I don't wish it, but I'm hoping looking at these records will clarify things for me."  
"And that's why you couldn't just ask him, because he'd never agree if he truly is guilty." Nathaniel nodded slowly. "I… look up to my father. He doesn't want me to become a policeman, but he's given me order and discipline my whole life long. To go behind his back like this… This is betraying him." He paused, then spun the combination lock. "But I know what it means to seek justice. This must be done, even if it ends in pain."  
"Thank you, Nathaniel," she said gently. "You're a good man. You're going to be a fine officer." Which would be poor comfort, she knew, if it turned out that Rendon was a murderer.  
The safe clicked open. Nathaniel rose, and gestured her towards it with a bow. "All yours, ma'am."  
He and Leliana retreated to the other end of the office to wait for her.

She was there a long time, sifting through paper after paper, careful to keep them in order, looking for anything with Theirin's name on it that didn't have to do directly with business. Nathaniel and Leliana were talking quietly, playing cards – and Leliana was cheating heavily, and Nathaniel was letting her.  
An hour passed, two. Would Rendon come back to check on his son? Surely he wouldn't? There were a lot of documents here.  
Finally – a slip of rough artisanal paper in a rough artisanal envelope, unmarked on the outside. But the paper on the inside was marked with a familiar black and red crest, and the wording was in elegant flowing script, but still intelligible.  
Five million dollars to kill Theirin. Unbelievable. A fortune enough to buy a small city. And the signatures included not only Howe, but Mac Tyr as well. But not Mrs. Theirin. There was some hope for the company's leadership, at least.  
She slipped the envelope inside her overcoat and began putting things back where she'd found them.  
"You found it?" Leliana asked, and Elizabeth looked over at their worried faces.  
"Perhaps," she said. "I may have found _something_. I think it better that you know as little as possible, Nathaniel. I'm sorry. You will have to lie to him already about what transpired here."  
Nathaniel's face was downcast and grim. "He's guilty, isn't he. If he was innocent, you would have no problem telling me."  
"Maybe, maybe not," she said. Her professional face was on in force. He'd get no hint from her. She shut the safe.  
"There's one more thing before we leave," Leliana said. "I don't think either of you will like it, but… should you be questioned about what went on here tonight, it would be safest for you to tell some part of the truth, Nathaniel. Which is why now you must kiss Elizabeth." She herself kissed Nathaniel on the cheek, leaving a large red lipstick stain.  
Nathaniel frowned and shied away from her, but didn't flush red again. "It doesn't seem right."  
Elizabeth took a deep breath and unbuttoned her overcoat, draping it over a chair. "It's true. You can mumble half-truths and incoherencies if questioned if you like, but experience will make even those more believable. And Leliana did make me put this ridiculous get-up on." She raised her chin. "However, rest assured this is the only time I will ask such a thing of you. It's entirely for the investigation. Nothing more."  
He grimaced, but came closer to her. "If you both insist…"  
"We will be unprofessional for the sake of being completely professional, Officer Howe," she said firmly, and took his face in her hands.  
Even as her lips touched his, and his arms went hesitantly around her thinly-clad waist, she couldn't help feel this was betraying… someone. She would not name his name, not when he'd gone off with…  
It was all for the investigation. Never mind that Nathaniel was reasonably attractive, in a strange, fierce, large-nosed way, and never mind that he'd certainly learned to kiss from somebody. _Not as good as_ _ **him**_ , her heart whispered, and she told it to shut up.  
When they parted, Leliana was waiting with a hand on the door. Elizabeth hurriedly turned away and grabbed her overcoat again, shrugging it on quickly. "I'm sorry for all the inconvenience, Nathaniel, and I'm extremely grateful for your assistance. Go get some rest, and… well, good luck with your studies."  
"Good luck with your investigation," Nathaniel said, looking like he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself right now, or how to feel. She didn't blame him. It must have been the strangest night of his life so far.

She and Leliana safely made it out of the building again, winking and giggling at the security guards. She'd just gotten around the corner and checked her inside pocket for the document.  
It wasn't there.  
"Leliana, did you see-"  
Leliana was gone.  
She froze and listened, all her senses on full alert. In those ridiculous shoes, Leliana couldn't move silently… unless she'd taken them off, the dangers of moving barefoot in a city be damned.  
Two could play at that game, and she pulled off her own horribly glittery heels, placing them neatly on a windowsill before running after the soft, shadowy steps from behind her.  
Leliana was quick and quiet, but she did not have the endurance Elizabeth did, and though she tried to hide in the shadows when she ran out of strength and very nearly succeeded, her stifled gasping for air gave her away. "Leliana. I can hear you."  
Leliana squeaked and ran again, and Elizabeth chased her. She was gaining on Leliana when the other woman stumbled and fell with a pained cry.  
Elizabeth was at her side immediately, not to capture, but with a knee-jerk reaction of offering assistance. "What happened? Are you hurt?"  
"Don't- don't come any closer!" Leliana gasped desperately. "I'll scream!"  
"You'll scream," Elizabeth said flatly. "At me, your friend and roommate and policewoman. What's this all about, Leliana?"  
"I'll scream and people will come, and I can talk them into taking you away!" Leliana said, crawling away crabwise. She was keeping her right foot still; she must have injured it.  
"I believe you," Elizabeth said, "but I just want to know why you took the evidence. Why would you help me like that and then betray me?" Her voice filled with anguish. She'd thought Leliana of all people would be true to her.  
Leliana stared her down, but after a minute or two, her defiant gaze cracked and she looked away, ashamed. "I… I have my reasons."  
"Did the Crows… did they get to you? They paid you to sabotage me?"  
"No! No, it's not that."  
"Leliana, without that evidence, they will kill me. Justice and my survival go hand in hand right now. I need it."  
"I-I need it too! You don't know-"  
"So tell me," Elizabeth said gently. "Please, Leliana. I'll help you if I can."  
"You might have heard me speak of a woman named Marjoleine," Leliana said slowly, sitting up on the cold, dirty ground a little.  
"Yes, I vaguely recall. She was your manager at one point, wasn't she?"  
"Yes… but she was more than that. And… I owe her a great debt. A massive debt. Ever since we met, I've been working my very hardest to pay her off, to earn my freedom. This little paper would more than clear me of her."  
"What happens if you don't earn your freedom?"  
"She will send people to force me to return home, to Orlais, where I will be jailed for life for crimes I did not commit. For treason, Elizabeth. In my early career I was young and foolish and in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she saved me from being jailed then, but now she has blackmailed me into paying her off… perhaps forever. It's the greatest of victories for me to be able to live relatively independently… with you. And I value your friendship, but I… I…" Leliana began to cry.  
"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said, but she didn't know who to trust anymore. "You could have told me. I would have tried to help."  
"Would you have believed me?" Leliana spat. "No one else has ever believed me."  
"Whether I believe you or not has no bearing on opening an investigation," Elizabeth said. "I believe you enough for that, and then the evidence would speak for itself, wouldn't it? You know I'm good at my job. But I can't help you if I'm dead. Is your freedom _right now_ worth more than my life?"  
Leliana paused, her face miserable. "No. No, I don't want you dead." She reached into her coat and pulled out the envelope, passed it to Elizabeth.  
"Thank you," Elizabeth said with relief. "Now, you fell because you hurt yourself, right? Where did you hurt yourself? Did you twist your ankle?"  
"I think I stepped on a piece of glass," Leliana said. "I don't think I can walk…"  
"That's all right," Elizabeth said. "I'll hail a taxi and get you to Doctor Wynne's place."  
"But it's so late at night, surely she…"  
"She won't be exceptionally pleased, no, but she takes her confidentiality very seriously. You have to pay for it in gossip, but she really does never tell anyone. And her skills are the best." Elizabeth rolled up her sleeve, showed the stitches in her arm. "She patched me up when Zevran shot me."  
Leliana managed a pained chuckle as Elizabeth put her arm over her shoulders and helped her to her feet, careful not to step on any of the glass herself. "Zevran, eh? That his first name or last name?"  
Elizabeth almost dropped her again, but only in surprise that she'd been caught out. "First name. But you needn't snicker, I'll probably never see him again. Where did you leave your shoes? I'll get them for you."

After she dropped Leliana off at Wynne's place and the long-suffering doctor had taken her in, Elizabeth made it to a payphone and called Alistair. "Sorry for waking you, but I need your help with something. Meet me by the docks. Thank you, Alistair."  
After she did, she went home, changed out of her glitter outfit, and slept finally.  
She woke late the next day, having forgotten she had no alarm clock in her new, temporary apartment. When she called HQ in a panic, Duncan answered and told her to rest and recover and lie low.  
She did for most of the day, but by evening she was ready to pace down the walls with nervous energy. Her arm hurt. Leliana had returned in the morning, her foot bandaged, but she kept to her own room, unable to face Elizabeth after the previous night.  
It was a bad idea, but the only thing she could think of right now was alcohol. She'd smoked an entire pack of cigarettes through the day and it had done nothing for her nerves. Drinking on top of that would only turn her into an emotional wreck.  
Well, damn it all. They couldn't touch her now. And she needed to get drunk and morose for a bit.  
Thus she ended up at the Gnawed Noble again. Sten Hildreth was still there, as if he'd never moved. Oghren Kondrat was _not_ there, and she wondered where he was, if he'd found some new woman to futilely chase after, or just sampling the alcohol in a different bar for once.  
After the third G&T, she put her head down on the bar, thoroughly dizzy. What was she actually doing here? Why had she ever thought this was a good idea?  
Because she was lonely. She was so terribly lonely. Leliana was not speaking to her from mortification, Alistair was a good work friend but no more than that, and Zevran…  
She shouldn't even think of him. He'd walked out on her. He'd gone with Taliesin. He was probably still in love with Taliesin, had probably just been using her as an emotional bandaid while he figured out what he was doing with his life.  
 _He wasn't_ , her heart whispered to her, but it was awfully difficult to hear it over the alcohol-fueled depression. And maybe it was just thinking wishfully, telling her comforting lies in ignorance.  
Or maybe he was dead. Taliesin probably betrayed him, or the Crows caught up to him. Even someone as clever and quick as him couldn't run forever.  
So she should never think about him again, was the best thing to do. Whether he was dead or returned to the Crows, it was better for her, anyway. She wouldn't have to fight through mountains of red tape and legal opposition to get him informant status, and she'd got her evidence largely without his help anyway.  
 _You wouldn't have known where to look if he didn't find out for you_ , her mind reminded her. _You still owe him_.  
"Shut up!" she said aloud to herself, then pushed her glass towards Edwina. "'Nother."  
"Difficult case, huh?" Edwina said sympathetically, and pushed the glass back.  
She wouldn't think about him. Not about his beautiful elven face, or his lean, muscular body, the way he'd caught her when she jumped, the way he smiled charmingly or smugly or proudly, the way his amber eyes made her heart jump in her chest. Not about the way he'd held her close to him, not about the way he'd kissed her like she'd never been kissed, as if she was the only person in the world he could trust.  
She wouldn't. After the next glass.  
"Here, you're coming with us," said a man's voice, over Edwina's rising protests, and then something thumped her in the back of the head and everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10: Heavy Fuel

Heavy Fuel is basically Oghren's theme song. I've been told Dire Straits wrote it for their roadie, but look how well it works for this lunatic. So: enjoy The Oghren Chapter, now with 50% more Oghren.

.

Chapter 10: Heavy Fuel

 _Last time I was sober, man I felt bad_  
 _Worst hangover that I ever had_  
 _It took six hamburgers and scotch all night_  
 _Nicotine for breakfast just to put me right_  
 _'cause if you wanna run cool_  
 _If you wanna run cool_  
 _If you wanna run cool, you got to run_  
 _On heavy, heavy fuel_  
 _Heavy, heavy fuel_  
 _Heavy, heavy fuel_

 _My life makes perfect sense_  
 _Lust and food and violence_  
 _Sex and money are the major kicks_  
 _Get me in a fight I like dirty tricks_  
 _'cause if you wanna run cool_  
 _Yes if you wanna run cool, you got to run_  
 _On heavy, heavy fuel_  
 _Heavy, heavy fuel_  
 _Heavy, heavy fuel_

 _My chick loves a man who's strong_  
 _The things she'll do to turn me on_  
 _I love the babes, don't get me wrong_  
 _Hey, that's why I wrote this song_

 _I don't care if my liver is hanging by a thread_  
 _Don't care if my doctor says I ought to be dead_  
 _When my ugly big car won't climb this hill_  
 _I'll write a suicide note on a hundred dollar bill_  
 _'cause if you wanna run cool_  
 _If you wanna run cool_  
 _Yes if you wanna run cool, you got to run_  
 _On heavy, heavy fuel_  
 _Heavy, heavy fuel_  
 _Heavy, heavy fuel_

She awoke, head aching with hangover and a goose egg on the back of her skull. She tried to move and couldn't, tied to a wooden chair with her arms behind her. It was excessively uncomfortable, and so was the bright light shining in her bleary eyes.  
How long had she been out? Quite a long time, from the feel and look of things. She shouldn't have been out so long, unless… the incapacitation had helped her fall asleep? She didn't feel like she'd been drugged…  
Now, who was it who had captured her? And could she keep her muddled wits about her enough to escape? The one thing she absolutely had to stick to was to tell them nothing.  
"What did you do with the documents?" came a growling voice out of the shadows. He was attempting to sound menacing, and he might have succeeded, if she hadn't recognized that nasal drone.  
"Rendon Howe," she mumbled, her head swaying as she squinted against the light. Voices echoed strangely here, like she was in a very large space.  
"You transparent little fool. I should have known something was up the moment I saw you and heard your ridiculous story. You distracted Nathaniel while your cohort broke into my safe, didn't you? I know what you did. You can hide _nothing_ from me."  
So Nathaniel hadn't cracked. Good. She still wasn't going to tell him anything.  
She wasn't prepared for the riding crop that slashed across her cheek, and she cried out.  
"You didn't have a warrant, did you? You had nothing to go on other than a lucky guess, so you came to steal it like a common thief, disguised as a tart. I wouldn't have thought someone of your parentage and breeding could fall so far, but you were always pretending to be just like the rabble. Your parents should be ashamed of you. They _will_ be ashamed of you, when they learn what you have done. And an officer of the law, no less."  
Elizabeth grunted noncommittally, but inside her anxiety was growing. Not that Howe would force some kind of confession from her, no, or publicly humiliate her, and while his words stung, she kept them on the outside, away from her heart. But that he wouldn't need a confession. He was rich and powerful, after all, not as powerful as Mrs. Theirin or Mac Tyr or even her father, but still powerful enough that he could slander her with truth or lies and no one would go against him.  
Another slap against her other cheek, snapping her head back around the other way. "You will tell me what you did with the documents."  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Elizabeth mumbled.  
A sigh from beyond the light. "So you wish to make this difficult. I would have spared you more physical discomfort if you had only cooperated. But… have it as you will."  
She was only barely prepared for a thug to step out beside her and grab her by her long braided brown hair, yanking her head back uncomfortably far. She heard the 'snick' of a switchblade and for a moment she panicked, worried about her exposed throat, then realized that wasn't what they wanted.  
"You're fond of your hair, aren't you?"  
"Oh no, my hair," she said flatly, sarcastically. She was not often sarcastic, and it was probably not the best course of action, but really? That was their first method of torture? A slight tug, and the braid from the right side of her head fell to the floor, and the hair around the right side of her head sprang free.  
"Leave the other side," Howe ordered. Yes, looking ridiculous in an interrogation was the most of her concerns. This small embarrassment would gain them nothing.  
Sarcasm left her when the thug punched her in the stomach, then in the face. As she reeled back to an upright position, she checked her teeth with her tongue. They were all still there… for now.  
But truth was worth a few missing teeth.  
Was the truth worth her life?  
Her lip had been split and blood was beginning to trickle down her chin. The man punched her again, in the ribs and face, harder and harder as she resisted the reflex to cry out.  
"Tell me what you did with my documents!"  
"Go to hell!" Elizabeth screamed through her bleeding mouth, bleeding nose. Her hangover was throbbing and her left eye was beginning to swell. Her sides ached with a sharp pang when she breathed, and she was breathing fast and hard now through clenched teeth.  
"I can't release you until you tell me, Elizabeth."  
"Even if I _did_ know something, and told you, or made something up just to make the beating stop, even if you found these mysterious documents without me, you'd never let me go," Elizabeth growled back. "You'd kill me first. And you wouldn't be sneaky about it like you were with Theirin."  
For the first time, Howe stepped into the light, tall and arrogant and sneering at her. "You're right. I would just have Barton and Clements shoot you and dump your body in a ditch, another victim of the high-risk law-enforcement life. Exactly why a woman should never have gotten involved in policework."  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes as well as she could. She'd had a stellar record up until this case and it wasn't because of or in spite of her gender.  
How shrugged. "This is a lose-lose situation for you, my dear. Either you give me the location of the document and I give you a swift and painless end, or you will stay locked away forever. You will never see anyone you love ever again. Even if somehow I am convicted of poor Cailan's murder, no one will ever find you. You'll be forgotten, lost, cold, and alone, _forever_." With every adjective, he came a step closer, until her was right in her face.  
"How dramatic," she muttered. Even if she'd been crooked enough to bend her principals, he wasn't giving her much incentive to confess.  
"That Cousland spirit still giving you defiance, I see. You'll be cured of that soon enough." He stepped back out of the light, and the other man stepped forward again.  
And stopped and turned, staring slackjawed into the darkness, as the 'ratatatatatat' of a Thompson submachine gun peppered the air in the distance. And another. And a shotgun. And a gutteral roar from a man, probably a dwarf. What was going on?  
And now the sounds of screaming. She heard Howe turn and run. From the way the sound was echoing… was she in a warehouse? She still couldn't see outside the circle of light, certainly not with her eye as it was… The man standing over her flinched and turned to run as well – and was shot in the head, falling without a sound at her feet.  
She didn't scream. She'd seen worse. But the accuracy of that shot…  
Familiar figures appeared in the light from around a dark corner, running towards her. The shortest, Oghren Kondrat by the looks of it, spun round, firing wildly behind them at things she couldn't see, still roaring incoherently. The tallest figure, Sten Hildreth, ran past her with his shotgun, peering into the darkness for more targets.  
And the other two… "Alistair! Z-Zevran…"  
"Elizabeth!" Alistair yelled, running up to her. "We'll get you out in just a second, sit tight. Oh, they hurt you bad, I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner!"  
"I'm just glad you arrived when you did." Zevran's knife was making quick work of her bonds, and Alistair pulled her to her feet, breathlessly hugging her.  
Why was Zevran here? She wanted to hug him too, but… "Time to move!" Zevran called to the other two, laughing, and they half-escorted, half-dragged her through stacks of crates, past broken bodies in pools of blood, and to a door to the outside.

They reconvened at Hildreth's place, which was fairly swank due to his former job, but spartan in furnishing. Elizabeth was certain she had broken ribs, as she'd been in a great deal of pain on the way to this place, and now sat very straight and still, breathing as slowly as she could with a towelful of ice pressed against them. And she probably couldn't smoke until they were healed. Damn.  
Meanwhile, Sten was slumped in a lounge chair across the living room, watching them impassively. Oghren walked around the apartment, caressing his Tommy gun. He reeked of alcohol and she wondered how he'd hit anything back there, and thanked the Maker that Hildreth had been the getaway driver.  
Alistair was sitting as close to her as was humanly possible and glaring at Zevran, who was dabbing at her face with a wet cloth, unperturbed by Alistair's disapproval. She was sure there was plenty of blood and dirt on her face, not to mention the fresh bruising. And her hair was still a metre longer on one side of her head. She must look an awful sight. At least her hangover was going down, aided by water and strong painkillers. But that was secondary. She was about to asked about her primary concern when Oghren finished his inspection of the apartment and walked up to her, carrying a flask. He offered it to her and she raised a hand in negative. His drinks were always too strong for her taste. "Hoo boy, Eliza, glad we could save your chips this time."  
"I'm very grateful, Oghren," she said, trying not to flinch from the alcohol fumes. "I'm grateful that all of you came to rescue me."  
Oghren puffed up his chest and snickered. "That was the most fun I've had in ages! You get in trouble again, I'm your man, Eliza. Don't bother with these skinny little popgun-slingers."  
"Hey!" Alistair said, while Zevran grinned.  
"What? You are! You need a real gun, Theirin." He patted his submachine gun. "Something that can actually fire multiple times."  
Alistair pulled out his pistol and looked at it. "As far as I can tell, this fires multiple times," he said dryly.  
"Nah, six, seven bullets and you're done. I've got like 70 in here."  
"And you use them all at once and then you're done!"  
"Nah. Got more in my coat. I'm no fool, Theirin. Don't _blow my load_ in the first minute. Well, sometimes I do, but I can go allllll night. That's why the ladies love me, see?"  
"Because you cause carnage and destruction whenever you get that gun out? I'm just glad we haven't had to pull you in for wonton chaos yet." Zevran was grinning from ear to ear, and even Elizabeth was about ready to facepalm at Alistair's denseness.  
"Yeah, genital destruction," Oghren said, and giggled.  
Alistair blinked, frowned in horror, and turned bright red. "That's disgusting. I think I preferred you as a morose drunk."  
"I'm still a morose drunk, Theirin."  
"If I may interject," Elizabeth put in, "is _it_ still safe?"  
"Unless Howe launched a bank robbery since yesterday, and I'd think the entire force would be turned out for that," Alistair said.  
"Unless he was being clever," Zevran said impishly. "But I think his cleverness has run out. He's desperate. He's not even trying anymore."  
"How _did_ you find me?" she asked quietly.  
"Oh, Mrs. Theirin called!" Alistair said, perking up like a puppy.  
"She called HQ!?" Why hadn't Duncan responded and not a pick-up band of mercenaries?  
"No, no, she called me personally."  
"Then why are you still in your uniform!? You're going to get suspended for – for unlawful entry, shooting all those people, in Warden uniform while off duty…"  
"For the record, I only shot _one_ person, and he was shooting at us," Alistair said, pouting. "The others did the rest. And is it unlawful entry when _you_ got unlawfully _kidnapped and tortured!?_ Who cares what I'm wearing?"  
He had a bit of a point there, so she shut up. Zevran was chuckling again, but there was a slight frown between his brows that said he agreed with Alistair and then some. "It's not murder if it's a rescue, no? Don't you police love your breach-and-clear routines? Saving hostages?"  
"That's more the military," she said, and Zevran shrugged.  
"Anyway, as I was saying," Alistair went on, recovering his cheer, "she called me like the moment I got home, and told me that you'd been kidnapped, and I of course asked how she knew that, and it turns out she hasn't been too trustful of Howe or her father recently either, not that I blame her. So she had people watching his people, and when they came for you, she was ready. I was going to go save you myself, but she suggested that I go get Hildreth, offer it as a chance to regain his honour."  
"Which I am grateful for," Hildreth rumbled. "I will no longer spend my days as a useless drunkard but in service to Anora Theirin. If she has need of me."  
"And Oghren was of course also at the Gnawed Noble and needed to come along, and I wasn't going to say no."  
"Cause I'd have shot you if you did," Oghren said, and cackled. He… probably didn't mean it.  
"And how did you know?" she asked Zevran, who had finished his ministrations to her face and was sitting back on his heels.  
"Ah, I was with Mrs. Theirin at the time. I joined up with the rest of your boys along the way. But I don't think your partner likes me very much, Liz dear."  
"Don't call me Liz," she said automatically, and he smirked.  
"May I do something about your hair?"  
"What? What are you going to do to my hair?"  
"It's the tiniest bit uneven right now." He smiled at her, even white teeth shining in his tanned face, and Alistair snerked to himself. At least someone appreciated Arainai's humour.  
"Fine," she sighed. "You can't make me look worse."  
"You wound me, mi amor. Officer Theirin, if you'd back away slightly from our precious Liz, you're blocking the light."  
This wasn't the time for a heart-to-heart. To tell him she'd been so afraid she'd never see him again, either from being dead, or from him being dead, or from Taliesin's charms winning him over completely. She wanted to put her arms around him and feel him hold her safe and warm.  
She was losing it. She'd only kissed him twice. "What's the plan?"  
But that didn't mean she was crazy. She felt his fingers brush the back of her neck as he cut her other braid, then begin evening the ends, and shivered. And she knew he felt it. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing she wasn't sure, but it didn't show in his voice. "We rest tonight, and go tomorrow to give the evidence you found to your boss. Although I think it's hardly needed now. After that… it should not be too long until a trial, yes?"  
"But what can be proven of tonight's insanity?" she asked. "Even if all of you are witnesses, Howe is sure to denounce you as liars making things up to protect me. If he's the least bit smart, he'll have the warehouse cleaned tonight, everything from bullet holes to bloodstains to the hair I left there. Mrs. Theirin's witnesses will back us up, hopefully, but…"  
"But just look at you!" Alistair said. "You're going to have a black eye and a broken nose and a cut lip and _whip marks_ , not to mention the ribs."  
"I didn't have to acquire those injuries at the hands of his thugs. No, the only concrete, irrefutable evidence we have is that contract. And to present that, I need Nathaniel Howe to cooperate… and I don't know if he will, officer-in-training or no, because he still looks up to his father."  
"Leave that to me," Oghren suggested, hefting his gun.  
"No, Oghren, please," she said, raising a hand. "You've helped me immensely, and I'm grateful – to all of you," she added. "But I think you'd scare him off first."  
"Aww."  
"Just tell the court what you witnessed tonight," she told him sweetly.  
"And hope they believe him," Alistair muttered.  
She looked up at Zevran. "What will the Crows do now? What happened to Taliesin?"  
His expression only flickered a little. "Dead. And the Crows will not do anything right now. Rendon Howe hired them, and between him and me, we've done a great deal to get them noticed a bit too much for their liking. Him, they will be displeased with, but they will probably not touch, especially if he ends up in jail. Me…" he shrugged nonchalantly. "I will probably have to leave the country, even if you succeed in your efforts to grant me a protected status."  
"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice.  
"Don't be." And he sounded so matter of fact, she had to believe him. "I thought it might go this way, if I even survived this long. It will still be freedom, just not in Ferelden." Then he smirked and winked. "Though freedom will be far less enjoyable without your sexy detectiving in it."  
"Zevran Arainai!"  
"Yeah, that was uncalled for!" Alistair said.  
Zevran threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Ahahaha! I am glad you are alive to get mad at me."  
Unexpectedly, she laughed too. "Me too. I owe you. Don't get killed before the trial, all right?"  
"You, too."


	11. Chapter 11: Iron Hand

Chapter 11: Iron Hand

 _With all the clarity of dream_  
 _The sky so blue, the grass so green_  
 _The rank and file in navy blue_  
 _The deep and strong, the straight and true_

 _The blue line, they got the given sign_  
 _The belts and boots marched forward in time_  
 _The wood and the leather, club and shield_  
 _Swept like a wave across the battlefield_

 _Now with all the clarity of dream_  
 _The blood so red, the grass so green_  
 _The gleam of spur on chestnut flank_  
 _The cavalry did burst upon the ranks_

 _Oh the iron will and the iron hand_  
 _In England's green and pleasant land_  
 _No music for the shameful scene_  
 _That night they said it had even shocked the queen_

 _Well alas we've seen it all before_  
 _Knights in armour, days of yore_  
 _The same old fears and the same old crimes_  
 _We haven't changed since ancient times_

The courtroom was full to bursting; the media gallery was crammed with journalists, all craning their necks to see everything. Howe and Mac Tyr were being led to the defendant's desk by police. Howe's face was haughty; Mac Tyr's was impassive. Lanaya Kavrala sat next to them. She was a good, knowledgeable defense lawyer and a good person, and this trial would not be easy on her.  
Elizabeth waited by the witness door, looking out at it all. She'd have to go back into an isolated room in a moment, or else her testimony would have no credibility. But she wanted to see what she was up against. She was jittery, and her foot kept tapping unconsciously on the ground, at least until Zevran stepped up behind her and took her hand and held it tightly. That was better. She could focus on him.  
It was Howe's career and reputation – and possibly Mac Tyr's as well – against hers. He had all the power and she only had one small, sharp weapon. If he broke her blade of evidence, she was finished. She would be the one to go to jail. Zevran would probably receive the death penalty; he had confessed his actions to her, after all. Even the thought that Howe and Mac Tyr would not escape unscathed, that this trial was already damaging to their reputations, was poor comfort. She either had to strike them down here and now, or be forever disgraced.  
"All rise," the bailiff announced, and the judge, Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, entered. She could relax the tiniest bit – Brother Genitivi was widely known to be one of the most fair judges in Ferelden. All judges belonged to the Chantry, but not all of them were as good as Genitivi. "Mr. Guerrin, your opening statement, please." Time to go and wait.

Teagan Guerrin stepped forward and cast a glance over at Ms. Kavrala. This was going to be the biggest trial either of them had handled. It was going to be an extremely long day. But they'd each do their jobs, there was no question of that. His only goal was to get the damning evidence in front of Genitivi. Conversely, Ms. Kavrala would be doing her best to block him from doing so.  
"Your honour, I intend to prove today that Loghain Mac Tyr and Rendon Howe had the motive and means to murder Cailan Theirin, even if it was not by their own hands. Their ambition, and possibly the fear of Orlesian takeover have resulted in the death of a good man and possibly the destabilization of this country. I am here to see justice for Theirin, and for all who have died in their attempt to cover up their crimes, and for those affected by the fallout in Ferelden."  
"Ms. Kavrala?"  
"Your honour, I intend to prove today that my clients, Loghain Mac Tyr and Rendon Howe, had nothing to do with the murder of Cailan Theirin. All the evidence, you will see, is circumstantial, the witnesses unreliable. I am here to seek justice on behalf of those wronged by jealous lies."  
Teagan ran down his witness list. Detective Cousland was of course the most important witness, with Zevran Arainai close behind – those two had the story, pieced together bit by bit. Many of the others, like Leliana Rossignol, Alistair Theirin, Doctor Joyce, Duncan Arrynson, he knew from their regular witnessing in court, and then there were the others: Mrs. Theirin, Celene Valmont, Morrigan Black, Oghren Kondrat, Sten Hildreth. All of them were only there to corroborate the story as told by Cousland and Arainai.  
Except Nathaniel Howe. He was almost as vital as them. They'd see if he cooperated today. He'd been grim when Teagan had talked to him, and a fierce battle was going on inside that young man.  
"You may call your first witness, Mr. Guerrin."  
"I would like to call Detective Elizabeth Cousland."

When Elizabeth stepped out, the background hum in the court jumped a notch. She knew why it was. She felt the stares on her, questioning the bandages on her face. She'd foregone make-up to cover up the bruising not covered by bandages; it was no shame to her the injuries she'd received for defying power. And it could be used as evidence of Howe's brutality and ruthlessness. But she wasn't particularly fond of being stared at, either, not by _so_ many people.  
She took a deep breath and stepped up to the stand. She might have the most to say in this trial, but that didn't mean she could or would say all of it. Some things were better off not known… unless they were dragged, kicking and screaming, into the light. And preferably presented in a favourable, legal fashion.  
"Detective, you were assigned to this case when the police learned of the murder of Mr. Cailan Theirin, correct?" Guerrin's confident brown eyes stared into hers.  
"Yes," Elizabeth said.  
"Please tell us, in your own words, what happened with the initial investigation."  
"It was not very promising," Elizabeth said. "Evidence was very sparse at the crime scene, and there appeared to be no witnesses initially. In further detail…" She laid out the case she'd had then, the few facts and pieces of evidence she'd scraped together with the help of Alistair and the rest of the police. Hildreth was brought forward to testify what he'd told her of the night of the assassination, how Elizabeth had found the lead that the assassin had climbed in from outside.  
But all this was almost irrelevant. Foundational, certainly, but the details of the murder itself had little to do with Howe and Mac Tyr. Ms. Kavrala's cross-examination prodded a few extra details from her memory, but nothing important.  
Then she came to the interesting part, where Miss Black had given her the phone number, and she was sent back while Miss Black was brought out to testify.

"Miss Black, how did you come by this phone number?"  
"I obtained it almost by chance," Miss Black said with a cool smile. "I came across a man in the garden during that party previously established as taking place, and asked for his number."  
"Why did you ask for the number of this particular man?"  
"Why not?" Miss Black said.  
"Miss Black, please answer the question."  
"He was pretty," Miss Black said. The conversation in the courtroom buzzed for a moment.  
Teagan gave her a side-eye. "Please continue. And know that if you are found to have not told the truth, you will be charged with contempt of court."  
"Does anyone really tell the truth, especially in a court of law?" Miss Black asked cynically, but went on. "After the fact, I recalled that I had this phone number and went to donate it to Detective Cousland. In case it happened to be important."  
"Very well, your witness," Teagan said, and Ms. Kavrala went to it, eyes filled with determination.  
"Miss Black, was there anything different or suspicious about this man? Anything that drew your attention?"  
"He was pretty. Also, he was pretty," Miss Black said.  
"Miss Black, please. In what way did his… prettiness stand out to you?"  
"Hmm, finally, a good question," Miss Black said thoughtfully. "I'd have to say… because it was unusual for such a conservative household to have on staff a man dressed like a waiter who looked like an exotic dancer." Someone in the audience laughed outright.  
"Was that all?" Ms. Kavrala stared challengingly at Miss Black.  
"That's all." Miss Black stared elegantly back.  
She let Miss Black go and Teagan called Elizabeth back.

"Detective Cousland, what did you do with the phone number which Miss Black gave you?"  
"I attempted to determine who it belonged to with the resources available to me at Drakon HQ, and when that proved futile – it was an unlisted number, and there were no useful fingerprints on the paper – I phoned it."  
"And who answered the call?"  
"Zevran Arainai."  
"And what was his relevance to the crime?"  
Elizabeth hesitated. "That of a contracted assassin."  
The media galleries erupted in a buzz, the audience gasped, and Ms. Kavrala's eyes narrowed. She couldn't hesitate again. She couldn't give the court any hint that she might have a conflict of interest where Zevran was concerned.  
"You use interesting wording there, detective. Why do you say it that way?" _Instead of murderer_ , the tension in the courtroom asked for him.  
"I mean that on his own, Mr. Arainai had no reason to be anywhere near Mr. Theirin. He had no motive for the crime."  
"Objection, speculation," Ms. Kavrala said.  
"Overruled," Judge Genitivi said. "I'm sure Detective Cousland will inform us how she came to this conclusion."  
"I'll call Mr. Arainai himself in a moment," Guerrin assured them all. "One more question for you first, however: what do you mean by 'on his own'?"  
"I mean that Mr. Arainai is a former member of the Crows. He was present on their behalf, and acted as he did on their behalf."  
"I see. I will now call Zevran Arainai."  
Ms. Kavrala would have liked to pin all of the guilt on Zevran if she could, Elizabeth knew – it would have been a sure way of ensuring her clients' innocent verdict. That was too late now. Zevran might not get away, and he knew it, but Genitivi was now aware that he was not acting on his own.

Arainai was cool as ice. "What can I do for you, Mr. Guerrin?"  
"Firstly, please tell us in your own words what you do for a living."  
"What I do for a living? I live. What I _did_ for a living? I was an assassin for the Crows. A 'cleaner', if you will, mostly. It paid the bills."  
"And how did you become involved in this case?"  
"Every once in a while, the Crows take on other jobs not directly related to their existing interests. And in this case, an external assassination job was passed to me. I never have any knowledge beyond my target and his or her location. So I went to the party and did the deed very much like how the lovely detective already described-"  
"Objection," Ms. Kavrala said. "Unless the witness was spying on earlier testimony, which is not permitted, he doesn't know what the detective described."  
"Sustained," Genitivi said. "Please tell us exactly how you did it, not simply passing approval on Detective Cousland's work."  
"Very well," Arainai said patiently, and told them exactly how he had done it. His story about Miss Black didn't quite mesh with her own, but that was Ms. Kavrala's job to sort out in the cross-examination. "May I continue?"  
"What did you do after the job was done?"  
"I went home. Thought about my life. I was becoming dissatisfied with how it was proceeding. For personal reasons, I was becoming tired of it. Then the phone rang, and it was like an angel called with a way out."  
Teagan raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. And what did you do then?"  
"Why, we set up a time and place to meet. She was quite desperate for information, as you can imagine."  
"I did not ask about Detective Cousland's mental state," Teagan said dryly. "But yes, I think we can all imagine. And when you met?"  
"She brained me with a garbage can lid, and I accidentally shot her in the arm," Arainai said, chuckling. Teagan knew if Elizabeth were there, she would be facepalming,.  
"I can bring out Doctor Joyce to testify to this as well," Teagan said to Genitivi. "However, I believe it's a minor detail."  
"Understood; please continue, Mr. Arainai."  
"Very well, so you met," Teagan said, amusement leaking through. "And immediately tried to murder your angel."  
"In self-defense," Arainai protested. "She's quite strong with a garbage can lid." There was a ripple of amusement from the audience. He continued and told the court of the deal he and Elizabeth had worked out, and of the assault on Elizabeth's apartment, Taliesin's presence, the dramatic car chase through the city, the flight to Highever, and the phone calls to and from Duncan and Alistair. "The next morning, we had a disagreement, and I left the house," Arainai said.  
"What was your disagreement about?" Teagan interrupted.  
Arainai hesitated. "It's not that relevant. All that matters is the outcome…"  
"I think we must decide that for ourselves."  
Arainai pressed his lips together, then took a deep breath and looked up. "It was about trust. She was still uncertain whether she truly trusted me or not, and I… was hurt by her wavering."  
"That certainly does sound a little bit important," Teagan said.  
"Considering it was mostly to do with whether she wanted to kiss me or not, maybe not as much as you think," Arainai said sharply, and someone in the audience tittered. "May I continue?"  
"Very well," Teagan said, conceding the point for now. If Ms. Kavrala thought it was important, she'd come back to it. Although suggesting Elizabeth was emotionally compromised in her investigation was hardly good.  
So Arainai told of his meeting with Taliesin and his dying words. Ms. Kavrala tried to remove that part of his testimony due to hearsay, but Genitivi had already heard it, and the advantage was still Teagan's for the time being. He called Elizabeth back to give her testimony on what Arainai had already said, which matched on all key points, and to continue the story from that point on.

Not that Taliesin's dying word amounted to much in the way of evidence against Howe, but if Genitivi didn't know about it, then nothing Elizabeth did next would make sense. Already she felt like her past actions were on thin ice due to pursuing such a flimsy lead.  
Did the ends justify the means? Was committing injustice excused if it served justice? She'd never been in so deep before.  
She told of the attack and Rory's death, and Zevran's phonecall, and returning to Denerim and meeting with Duncan, and – adjusting the truth only a little, to protect Leliana – how she'd asked Leliana for help in seeking out Nathaniel Howe.

Nathaniel Howe was next called as a witness, and he looked quite miserable, with his father glaring at him with folded arms from the defendant's seating.  
"Mr. Howe, you are in training at the Warden Academy, correct?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"And on the night in question, you met Detective Cousland and Miss Rossignol at the Theirin office, correct?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Can you tell us what happened?"  
"Well, sir, I don't know what they told you, but although they may have told a few lies to get in, they really did want to see me. About the case, sir. I…" Nathaniel stopped, looking at his father, clearly uncertain how to proceed.  
"Take your time, Mr. Howe."  
"Yes, sir. …Detective Cousland was investigating my father, and… well, she couldn't look at any records without me, so…"  
"So you gave her permission to do so? Did you have the authority to clear this?" Teagan said.  
Nathaniel braced himself. "Yes. Yes, I do."  
"No you do not!" Howe burst out, standing and slamming his hands on the table. "Those are private business documents, nothing to do with you! How dare you assume-!"  
Genitivi rapped with his gavel. "Sir, please contain yourself."  
"Nothing to do with me!?" Nathaniel cried. "When my _father_ is under suspicion of murder, should I obscure justice? Even if… as I guess now… the truth is not what I wish it to be?"  
"You're a traitor to the Howe name," Howe growled, and Nathaniel flinched. "You're not worthy to be called my son."  
"My client tells the truth," Ms. Kavrala said, her fighting face on. "His son was not authorized to access business documents, certainly not of the highest levels of the company, and definitely not when his son has no intention of working for the company or inheriting his position."  
"Ah, but this isn't exactly a business document," Teagan answered. "It's a contract, to be sure, but nothing to do with Theirin Inc."  
"It was stolen," Ms. Kavrala said. "Detective Cousland had no warrant. She already testified as much. So she resorted to this cheap trick of manipulating family members to get false evidence. Nathaniel Howe is as guilty of theft as Detective Cousland is. It's inadmissible."  
"Nathaniel Howe is an honest man in training to be a police officer," Teagan said. "Detective Cousland specifically sought him out because as an upright family member, he might testify to the truth more easily than one of the principal suspects."  
"She ran into him by chance and used it to her advantage," Ms. Kavrala said. "Her intent was from the beginning to steal evidence, if any such evidence could be found. Nathaniel Howe was her only hope of legitimatizing such theft by his relationship with his father."  
She wasn't wrong, but he could make it work. "Ah, so the fact that he's not a member of the company isn't relevant anymore?" Teagan said, a gleam in his eye. "He could grant her access just by being a family member?"  
"No!" cried Ms. Kavrala. "No, that's not-"  
"That's what you said, is it not?"  
"Your honour, I'd like to retract my last statement."  
"I think you should uphold it," Teagan said. "After all, like I said, it's not a business document, so being a member of the company was never relevant in the first place."  
"Nathaniel Howe, honest as he may think he is, had no business in his father's private documents!"  
"If he had no business in his father's private documents, then how did he have the code to the safe?"  
Ms. Kavrala paused and sputtered. "B-because…"  
"Because he did not!" Rendon Howe burst out. "I never gave him that code! How did you get it, boy? Have you been spying on me since the beginning?"  
"Maybe you should change your codes once in a while, father," Nathaniel muttered. "It's the same as the one at home."  
"There, you see?" Teagan seized it and ran with it, ignoring the growing look of rage and horror on Rendon Howe's face. "He has access to private documents at home. This document is not a company document, therefore he had legitimate access to it as a family member."  
"He has nothing to do with it!" Rendon cried, past Ms. Kavrala's look of alarm. "His name isn't on the document, he never met with the C-"  
"No!" cried Ms. Kavrala, and Mac Tyr finally moved to grab Rendon Howe's arm to silence him.  
"Never met with the who, Mr. Howe?"  
Howe clammed up.  
"I know it began with a C or a K. Hmm, could it be… the Crows, whom Zevran Arainai belongs to?"  
"We'll never know," Ms. Kavrala said, attempting to recover control of the situation. "Because whatever random passionate outbursts my client makes, that document is still inadmissible as evidence."  
"I didn't start prosecuting yesterday, Ms. Kavrala," Teagan said. "Howe hasn't even seen the document we're speaking of, yet he thinks he knows what's in it. Whether Detective Cousland obtained it through Nathaniel Howe's legitimate or illegitimate claim to family affairs has just been rendered moot. I can prove his outburst wasn't random, and I can do it now."  
"Nathaniel Howe wouldn't recognize the document either," Ms. Kavrala tried one last time. "How would he, unless he also knew what was on it?"  
Teagan smiled. "I have here the evidence which Detective Cousland obtained with your assistance; Mr. Howe, would you recognize it if you saw it?"  
"In other words, can I confirm this is the actual evidence and not something she made up afterwards?" Nathaniel hesitated. "I didn't see the contents, but the envelope was very distinctive – ah! Yes, that is the one."  
Teagan held it up. "Your honour, this is the single most important piece of evidence in this trial. I daresay we need no further evidence, no further testimony, but in the pursuit of truth, we shall of course continue."  
"Objection," Ms. Kavrala said desperately. "Mr. Howe just admitted he never saw the contents of the envelope, so how could he know Detective Cousland didn't insert forged evidence? She could have simply stolen a distinctive envelope and put whatever she wanted inside!"  
"She could have," Teagan said thoughtfully. "But that's a lot of trouble to go to, to steal one envelope. And besides, the contents match the container." He drew out the contract, showing it was written on the same sort of paper as the envelope. "I present this evidence to the court."  
Genitivi took it and read it. "It does seem conclusive. But let us continue."  
"Mr. Howe, thank you for your time," Teagan said, with a friendly smile. He didn't dare show how relieved he was. It was well-nigh impossible for Howe and Mac Tyr to come back from this. Ms. Kavrala looked frustrated and anxious. She wanted the truth as much as Teagan did, but her version of the truth was collapsing like a house of cards.  
Nathaniel nodded, looking more unhappy than ever, and left the stand.


	12. Chapter 12: On Every Street

I'm… done? Story came to about 33000 words. Not perfect, messy ending, but hopefully some entertainment was derived from it. And yes I know very little about trials or legal procedures so big thanks to Elwin for answering my dumb questions, and for encouraging me to also make things up because hey fiction.

I always thought that "three-chord symphony crashes into space" was "dream-coloured symphony" and I kind of still like those words better. XD But this is one of my favourite Dire Straits songs; it's so evocative. The meaning of the words really does fit the original place I was going to put it, around chapter 3, but the tone is really nice for a credits song. Besides, she's still going to be looking for him… she'll still see him everywhere, without even trying. X3

Thanks for reading!

.

Chapter 12: On Every Street

 _There's gotta be a record of you someplace_  
 _You gotta be on somebody's books_  
 _The lowdown: a picture of your face_  
 _Your injured looks_  
 _The sacred and profane_  
 _Pleasure and the pain_  
 _Somewhere your fingerprints remain concrete_  
 _And it's your face I'm looking for_  
 _On every street_

 _A ladykiller, regulation tattoo_  
 _Silver spurs on his heels_  
 _Says "what can I tell you, as I'm standing next to you_  
 _She threw herself under my wheels"_  
 _It's a dangerous road_  
 _And a hazardous load_  
 _And the fireworks of liberty explode in the heat_  
 _And it's your face I'm looking for_  
 _On every street_

 _A three-chord symphony crashes into space_  
 _The moon is hanging upside down_  
 _I don't know why it is I'm still on the case_  
 _It's a ravenous town_  
 _And you still refuse to be traced_  
 _Seems to me such a waste_  
 _And every victory has a taste that's bittersweet_  
 _And it's your face I'm looking for_  
 _On every street_  
 _Yeah, it's your face I'm looking for_  
 _On every street_

The story was finished, the trial over. Loghain Mac Tyr and Rendon Howe had been convicted of conspiring to murder Cailan Theirin and sentenced to life in prison. Zevran Arainai had not been arrested, his informant status still up in the air, but it was probably only a matter of time.  
Teagan Guerrin found his opponent in the lobby afterwards. "Tough day today, but I think justice came through."  
Ms. Kavrala shook her head. "Sometimes, when you know you're on the right track, I really hate that smug smile of yours."  
"I know, I know. Would you like to meet for drinks tonight? To relax after a hard-fought battle?"  
After a hesitation, she smiled, and her elven ears perked up. "That would be nice, thank you. See you at nine?"

"So that's it, then," Elizabeth said.  
"For now, at least," Zevran answered.  
They stood on top of the courthouse, three days later. He'd called her, said he wanted to talk. But now that she was here, neither of them seemed eager to open the conversation. Her bandages were mostly off, but the bruising on her face was blooming in spectacular colours, and the injuries to the rest of her body were only healing slowly.  
"Theirin Inc. is floundering, but with Anora at the helm, they should steady out. She's far from perfect, but she's very capable of handling the job. But Korcari is moving up into the power vacuum left by the confusion." She wondered if that was what Miss Black had wanted all along, manipulating them all like that. Probably. Did it make a difference to her? Probably not, unless Korcari Company proved to be more corrupt than its predecessor. Even then… soon it wouldn't make any difference to her one way or another. "And I'm going to investigate Leliana's blackmailer for her."  
They fell silent, watching the traffic meander steadily through the streets far below.  
"I never told you really why I wanted to leave the Crows," he said, very softly.  
She looked at him, as he stared down at the city, fedora loosely dangling from his hands crossed on the railing, and waited.  
"There was a woman," he said. "Rinna was her name. Beautiful, passionate, fiery. She and Taliesin and I were a team. No one could stand against us, not within the Crows, and not without."  
"What happened to her?"  
"You must understand, I had never been taught anything of love. In fact, as a cleaner, I was taught not to love, to make my heart cold. And I had thought that was so."  
"But you – you said you were with many women," she objected, scandalized.  
He chuckled. "One does not need to know love to know how to make love, mi amor. But so there I was… and there she was… and she broke through all of my defenses. And I loved her, though I hardly knew what to call it then. And Taliesin loved her, and I loved him, and she loved us both."  
A perfect assassin-y ménage à trois? "I see."  
"Until we uncovered evidence that she had betrayed us, betrayed the Crows… It was all a lie, but Taliesin and I, we didn't know that. Our masters had decided we were a little too close, it seems."  
"So… she…"  
"She's dead," he said quietly. "We killed her. Taliesin shot her, and I watched her bleed out. She cried, and said she loved us, said she loved me… I shrugged. I loved her and I shrugged. As if it didn't matter. As if I didn't care."  
"But you did," she said. "And that's why you wanted to leave." Vaguely she recalled, a case she hadn't been assigned to – the body of a young woman had been found shot in an alley somewhere. She'd been identified as Florinda Costanza, but no more had been known about her, what she did, where she came from… Perhaps she should drop a note on Detective Tabris's desk.  
"I couldn't be with a group that had betrayed her, betrayed me that way. For a while I wanted to take revenge, but I soon realized that was foolish. They didn't care, and they wouldn't care. Nothing I could do would affect them. Then for a while, I wanted to die, but I changed my mind."  
"When was that?"  
"When Theirin died at my hand. I looked at him, a strong, charismatic man, helpless in the grip of death, and I saw Rinna in my mind, a strong, beautiful woman, and I knew I wasn't going to go there yet. I would fight it as long as I could, fight my lack of resolve, fight the Crows, fight for my own life and freedom. And then I met you. And you gave me my chance."  
"I had no idea," she said.  
"Well, I never told you until this moment," he said, with a little smirk, and she smiled back. After a pause, he went on. "You are… a lot like her. A little older, a lot more reserved, but your spirit and tenacity is like hers. I think that's why I trusted you so easily, so quickly. I would even love you, if we had more time together."  
"Yes, our time has run out, hasn't it?" she said.  
"That's why you're here, I know."  
"Yes. I'm supposed to arrest you. I couldn't get the deal I promised you. I'm sorry."  
He waved a hand dismissively. "I expected that, in the end. The public wants blood for Theirin's murder, not just bureaucratic solutions."  
"I'm not going to," she said.  
He turned to her in amused, pleased surprise. "Detective, I'm appalled."  
"That's Alistair's line," she said, with a wistful smile. "No. I'm not bringing you in. I… just can't. Because all you want is your freedom. Because… I would love you, too, if we had more time together."  
He turned to her, ran his fingers tenderly over the bruises on her jaw, the welts on her cheeks. "That doesn't mean you can let me go, darling. It would be bad for your career."  
"I'm resigning," she said. "After the questions of the legitimacy of my investigation, it's something I need to do anyway. But even if there were no questions about my professionalism… I would still let you go." She gave a sad, self-deprecating smile. "Looks like I'm as corrupt as the rest of them."  
He said nothing to agree or disagree with that, only tilted her head up gently to kiss her. She breathed in cypress and lavender, one last time.  
"Come with me," he whispered, his hands cupping her face, her hands holding his elbows, but they both knew her answer already.  
"My place is still in Ferelden," she said quietly. "I know: you will vanish forever. I will never see you again… except in my dreams, in half-imagined too-quick glances in a crowd, in the leaves of autumn trees at dusk. I accept that. I'll never forget you… and I'm glad that I met you."  
"So am I," he murmured, and kissed her once more before releasing her.  
They walked together down to street level. He turned to her, hesitating, his hat in his hand.  
"I wish you all the best," she said to him.  
He looked into her eyes, searchingly, and then his solemn expression melted into his usual charming smile. He bowed, straightened while putting his hat on his head, and turned away. She watched him go as he walked away, not looking back, blending far too soon into the crowds of Denerim.


End file.
